LL 


V— ,— -^ 


The  Voice  of  History 


By  MARTIN  S.  SOMMER 


ST.  LOUIS,  MO. 

CONCORDIA  PUBLISHING  HOUSE 
1913 


PREFACE 

Examination  of  this  volume,  even  though  it  be  not 
very  thorough,  will  soon  reveal  its  general  scope.  It  is  a 
collection  of  interesting  chapters  from  some  of  the  chief 
historians  of  our  language,  the  importance  of  the  matter 
and  the  quality  of  the  style  deciding  the  choice.  If  those 
who  read  it  imbibe  not  only  valuable  and  stimulating  in- 
formation, but  also  acquire  a  taste  for  good  historical 
literature  and  a  desire  to  investigate  still  further  the  story 
of  the  lives  and  deeds  of  nations  in  the  past,  the  book  i$ 
accomplishing  its  purpose. 

The  editor  and  the  publishers,  while  agreeing  in  a 
general  way  with  the  matter  here  presented,  do  not 
assume  responsibility  for  every  statement  of  the  different 
historians.  One  guiding  principle  has  been  kept  in  view : 
to  give  prominence  to  the  struggle  of  humanity  for  lib- 
erty and  for  true  enlightenment  against  tyranny  and 
superstition.  In  presenting  extracts  which  describe  the 
trend  of  the  minds  'and  spirits  of  our  ancestors,  we  ac- 
knowledge to  have  been  influenced  by  the  opinion  so 
forcibly  expressed  by  one  of  the  greatest  English  his- 
torians, Thomas  Carlyle,  in  his  essay  on  Boswett's  Life 
of  Johnson,  where  he  saith: 

"  Mournful,  in  truth,  is  it  to  behold  what  the  business  called 
'  history/  in  these  so  enlightened  and  illuminated  times,  still 
continues  to  be.  Can  you  gather  from  it,  read  till  your  eyes  go 
out,  any  dimmest  shadow  of  an  answer  to  that  great  question : 
How  men  lived  and  had  their  being;  were  it  but  economically, 
as,  what  wages  they  got,  and  what  they  bought  with  these?  Un- 
happily you  can  not.  History  will  throw  no  light  on  any  such 
matter.  At  the  point  where  living  memory  fails,  it  is  all  dark- 


IV  PREFACE. 

ness;  Mr.  Senior  and  Mr.  Sadler  must  still  debate  this  simplest 
of  all  elements  in  the  condition  of  the  past,  whether  men  were  bet- 
ter off  in  their  larders  and  pantries,  or  were  worse  off  than  now ! 
History  as  it  stands  all  bound  up  in  gilt  volumes,  is  but  a  shade 
more  instructive  than  the  wooden  volumes  of  a  backgammon 
board.  How  my  prime  minister  was  appointed  is  of  less  moment 
to  me  than  how  my  house-servant  was  hired.  In  these  days,  ten 

Tdinary  historians  of  kings  and  courtiers  were  well  exchanged 
against  the  tenth  part  of  one  good  history  of  booksellers. 

"  For  example,  I  would  fain  know  the  history  of  Scotland ; 
who  can  tell  it  me?  'Robertson,'  say  innumerable  voices; 
'  Robertson  against  the  world.'  I  open  Robertson,  and  find  there, 
through  long  ages  too  confused  for  narrative,  and  fit  only  to  be 
presented  in  the  way  of  epitome  and  distilled  essence,  a  cunning 
answer  and  hypothesis,  not  to  this  question.  By  whom,  and  by 
what  means,  when  and  how,  was  this  fair,  broad  Scotland,  with 
its  arts  and  manufacturers,  temples,  schools,  institutions,  poetry, 
spirit,  national  character,  created  and  made  arable,  verdant, 
peculiar,  great,  here  as  I  can  see  some  fair  section  of  it  lying, 
kind  and  strong  (like  some  Bacchus-tamed  lion),  from  the 
Castle-hill  of  Edinburgh ! — But  to  this  other  question :  How  did 
the  king  keep  himself  alive  in  those  old  days ;  and  restrain  so 
many  butcher-barons  and  ravenous  henchmen  from  utterly  extir- 

ating  one  another,  so  that  killing  went  on  in  some  sort  of 
moderation?  In  the  one  little  letter  of  .(Eneas  Sylvius,  from  old 
Scotland,  there  is  more  of  history  than  in  all  this.  At  length, 
however,  we  come  to  a  luminous  age,  interesting  enough,  to  the 
age  of  the  Reformation.  All  Scotland  is  awakened,  Scotland  is 
convulsed,  fermenting,  struggling,  to  body  itself  forth  anew.  To 
the  herdsman,  among  his  cattle  in  remote  woods;  to  the  crafts- 
man in  his  rude,  heath-thatched  workshop,  among  his  rude  guild- 
brethren  ;  to  the  great  and  to  the  little,  a  new  light  has  arisen : 
in  town  and  hamlet  groups  are  gathered,  with  eloquent  looks,  and 
governed  or  ungovernable  tongues.  We  ask,  with  breathless 
eagerness :  How  was  it ;  how  went  it  on  ?  Let  us  understand  it, 
let  us  see  it,  and  know  it !  In  reply,  is  handed  us  a  really  grace- 
ful and  most  dainty  little  Scandalous  Chronicle  (as  for  some 
Journal  of  Fashion)  of  two  persons:  Mary  Stuart,  a  beauty,  but 
over  light-headed;  and  Henry  Darnley,  a  booby  who  had  fine 
legs.  How  these  first  courted,  billed,  and  cooed,  According  to 
nature;  then  pouted,  fretted,  grew  utterly  enraged,  an"3  blewTjTTe* 


PREFACE.  V 

another  up  with  gunpowder:  this,  and  not  the  history  of  Scot- 
land, is  what  we  good-naturedly  read.  Nay,  by  other  hands, 
something  like  a  horse-load  of  other  books  has  been  written 
to  prove  that  it  was  the  beauty  who  blew  up  the  booby,  and  that 
it  was  not  she.  Who  or  what  it  was,  the  thing  once  for  all 
being  so  effectually  done,  concerns  us  little.  To  know  Scotland 
at  that  epoch  were  a  valuable  increase  of  knowledge :  to  know 
poor  Darnley,  and  see  him  with  burning  candle,  from  center  to 
skin,  were  no  increase  of  knowledge  at  all.  This  is  history 
written. 

"  Hence,  indeed,  comes  it  that  history,  which  should  be  '  the 
essence  of  innumerable  biographies,'  will  tell  us,  question  it  as 
we  like,  less  than  one  genuine  biography  may  do,  pleasantry  and 
of  its  own  accord!  The  time  is  approaching  when  history  will 
be  attempted  on  quite  other  principles;  when  the  court,  the 
senate,  and  the  battlefield  receding  more  and  more  into  the 
background,  the  temple,  the  workshop,  the  social  hearth  will 
advance  more  and  more  into  the  foreground;  and  history  will 
not  content  itself  with  shaping,  some  answer  to  that  question : 
How  were  men  taxed  and  kept  quief  then?  But  will  seek  to 
answer  this  other  infinitely  wider  and  higher  question:  How 
and  what  were  men  then  ?  " 

Similarly,  Macaulay  expresses  himself  in  his  essays: 

"  Most  people  look  at  past  times  as  princes  look  at  foreign 
countries.  More  than  one  illustrious  stranger  has  landed  on  our 
island  amid  the  shouts  of  a  mob,  has  dined  with  the  king,  has 
hunted  with  the  master  of  the  stag-hounds,  has  seen  the  Guards 
reviewed,  and  a  knight  of  the  garter  installed ;  has  cantered  along 
Regent  Street;  has  visited  St.  Paul's,  and  noted  down  its  dimen- 
sions, and  has  then  departed,  thinking  that  he  has  seen  England. 
He  has,  in  fact,  seen  a  few  public  buildings,  public  men,  and 
public  ceremonies.  But  of  the  vast  and  complex  system  of 
society,  of  the  fine  shades  of  national  character,  of  the  practical 
operation  of  government  and  laws,  he  knows  nothing.  He  who 
would  understand  these  things  rightly  must  not  confine  his  ob- 
servations to  palaces  and  solemn  days.  He  must  see  ordinary 
men  as  they  appear  in  their  ordinary  business  and  in  their 
ordinary  pleasures.  .  .  .  He  who  wishes  to  understand  the 
condition  of  mankind  in  former  ages  must  proceed  on  the  same 


VI  PREFACE. 

principle.  If  he  attend  only  to  public  transactions,  to  wars,  con- 
gresses, and  debates,  his  studies  will  be  as  unprofitable  as  the 
travels  of  those  imperial,  royal,  and  serene  sovereigns  who  form 
their  judgment  of  our  island  from  having  gone  in  state  to  a  few 
fine  sights,  and  from  having  held  formal  conferences  with  a 
few  great  officers." 

It  is  our  humble  opinion  that  the  extracts  offered  in 
this  volume,  fragmentary  though  they  may  be,  will 
acquaint  the  reader  with  some  of  the  most  important 
issues  over  which  the  thoughts  and  emotions  of  the 
people  were  convulsed  in  the  past.  By  rehearsing  how 
men  were  deceived,  and  how  these  deceptions  were  ex- 
posed; how  men  were  cruelly  tyrannized,  and  how  these 
tyrannies  were  overthrown,  the  book  seeks  to  help  us  to 
appreciate  the  material  and  spiritual  advances  and  advan- 
tages which  have  been  purchased  by  our  ancestors, 
through  bloody  battles  and  at  the  sacrifice  of  their  own 
lives,  and  to  instill  into  us  the  willingness  to  do  the  same 
in  our  day. 

The  notes  and  comments  at  the  head  of  each  selection 
are  to  serve  the  purpose  of  introducing  either  the  author 
or  the  matter,  or  both,  to  the  reader. 

MARTIN  S.  SOMMER. 

ST.  Louis,  Mo.,  October  31,  1912. 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

THE  SIEGE  AND  FALL  OF  JERUSALEM I 

MOHAMMED — His  METHODS  9 

THE  CRUSADES  14 

THE  MORAL  CONDITION  OF  THE  CHURCH  IN  THE  MIDDLE 

AGES  23 

HENRY — HILDEBRAND — CANOSSA  30 

THE  WESTERN  SCHISM 55 

JOHN  Huss  61 

RECEPTION  OF  COLUMBUS  AT  PALOS 74 

MARTIN  LUTHER 80 

INHABITANTS  OF  MEXICO 94 

THE  MASSACRE  OF  ST.  BARTHOLOMEW'S  DAY 99 

THE  BLOODY  MARY  120 

THE  INQUISITION  UNDER  FERDINAND  AND  ISABELLA 159 

PROTESTANTISM  IN  SPAIN ,  170 

OLIVER  CROMWELL 186 

THE  DEFEAT  OF  THE  SPANISH  ARMADA 191 

THE  GUNPOWDER  PLOT 213 

THE  ASSASSINATION  OF  WILLIAM  THE  SILENT 225 

THE  THIRTY  YEARS'  WAR 236 

GUSTAVUS  ADOLPHUS — His  TRIUMPH  AND  DEATH 246 

FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  OF  PRUSSIA — His  HABITS — THE 

SOLDIER  255 

GEORGE  WASHINGTON  263 


The  Siege  and  Fall  of  Jerusalem. 

Flavius  Josephus'  The  Jewish  War. 

Josephus,  a  Jewish  prisoner  of  the  Romans  during  the  siege 
of  Jerusalem,  had  sufficient  ability  to  observe  the  events  which 
were  transpiring  about  him,  and  had  enough  learning  to  record 
the  facts  together  with  his  impression. 

"  At  the  close  of  the  war  he  went  to  Rome,  was  presented 
with  the  freedom  of  the  city,  an  annual  pension,  and  a  house  that 
had  formerly  been  the  residence  of  an  imperial  family."  There 
he  composed  his  writings  on  the  Jewish  nation,  the  first  of  which, 
The  Jewish  War,  covers  the  period  of  170  B.  C.  to  71  A.  D.,  and 
the  second,  Jewish  Antiquities,  covers  the  time  from  the  be- 
ginning of  the  world  to  the  outbreak  of  the  Roman  wars. 

In  reading  the  following  extracts  from  his  Jewish  War, 
we  cannot  but  see  the  hand  of  Jehovah  in  the  punishment  of  this 
ungrateful  and  wicked  nation  which  crucified  the  Messiah. 

As  Josephus  was  speaking  thus  with  a  loud  voice,  the 
seditious  would  neither  yield  to  what  he  said,  nor  did  they 
deem  it  safe  for  them  to  alter  their  conduct;  but  as  for  the 
people,  they  had  a  great  inclination  to  desert  to  the  Romans; 
accordingly,  some  of  them  sold  what  they  had,  and  even  the 
most  precious  things  that  had  been  laid  up  as  treasures  by 
them  for  a  very  small  matter,  and  swallowed  down  pieces  of 
gold,  that  they  might  not  be  found  out  by  the  robbers ;  and 
when  they  had  escaped  to  the  Romans,  went  to  stool,  and 
had  wherewithal  to  provide  plentifully  for  themselves;  for 
Titus  let  a  great  number  go  away  into  the  country  whither 
they  pleased.  And  the  main  reasons  why  they  were  so  ready 
to  desert  were  these,  that  now  they  should  be  freed  from 
those  miseries  which  they  had  endured  in  that  city,  and  yet 
.  should  not  be  in  slavery  to  the  Romans.  However,  John  and 
Simon,  with  their  factions,  did  more  carefully  watch  these 
men's  going  out  than  they  did  the  coming  in  of  the  Romans ; 
and  if  any  one  did  afford  the  least  shadow  of  suspicion  of 
such  an  intention,  his  throat  was  cut  immediately. 

But  as  for  the  richer  sort,  it  proved  all  one  to  them 
whether  they  stayed  in  the  city,  or  attempted  to  get  out  of  it ; 
for  they  were  equally  destroyed  in  both  cases ;  for  every  such 


2  THE  VOICE  OF   HISTORY. 

person  was  put  to  death  under  the  pretense  that  they  were 
going  to  desert,  but  in  reality,  that  the  robbers  would  get 
what  they  had.  The  madness  of  the  seditious  did  also  in- 
crease, together  with  their  families,  and  both  those  miseries 
were  every  day  inflamed  more  and  more;  for  there  was  no 
corn  which  anywhere  appeared  publicly,  but  the  robbers  came 
running  into,  and  searched  men's  private  houses:  and  then, 
if  they  found  any,  they  tormented  them,  because  they  had 
denied  they  had  any  corn,  and  if  they  found  none,  they  tor- 
mented them  worse,  because  they  supposed  they  had  more 
carefully  concealed  it.  The  indication  they  made  use  of, 
whether  they  had  any  or  not,  was  taken  from  the  bodies  of 
these  miserable  wretches,  which,  if  they  were  in  good  case, 
they  supposed  they  were  in  no  want  at  all  of  food,  but  if  they 
were  wasted  away,  they  walked  off  without  searching  any 
further.  Nor  did  they  think  it  proper  to  kill  such  as  these, 
because  they  saw  that  they  would  very  soon  die  of  them- 
selves from  want  of  food.  Many  there  were  indeed  who  sold 
what  they  had  for  one  measure ;  it  was  of  wheat,  if  they  were 
of  the  richer  sort,  but  of  barley  if  they  were  poor.  When 
these  had  so  done,  they  shut  themselves  up  in  the  inmost 
rooms  of  their  houses  and  eat  the  corn  they  had  gotten ; 
some  did  it  without  grinding,  by  reason  of  the  extremity  of 
the  want  they  were  in,  and  others  baked  bread  of  it  accord- 
ing as  necessity  and  fear  dictated  to  them ;  a  table  was  no- 
where laid  for  a  distinct  meal,  but  they  snatched  the  bread 
out  of  the  fire,  half  baked,  and  eat  it  very  hastily. 

It  was  now  a  miserable  case,  and  a  sight  that  would  justly 
bring  tears  to  our  eyes,  how  men  stood  as  to  their  food, 
while  the  more  powerful  had  more  than  enough,  and  the 
weaker  were  lamenting  (for  want  of  it).  But  the  famine 
was  too  hard  for  all  other  passions,  and  it  is  destructive  to 
nothing  so  much  as  to  modesty;  for  what  was  otherwise 
worthy  of  reverence  was  in  this  case  despised,  insomuch  that 
children  pulled  the  very  morsels  that  their  fathers  were  eating 
out  of  their  very  mouths,  and  what  was  still  more  to  be  pitied, 
so  did  the  mothers  do  as  to  their  infants ;  and  when  those  that 
were  most  dear  were  perishing  under  their  hands,  they  were 
not  ashamed  to  take  from  them  the  very  last  drop  that  might 
preserve  their  lives.  And  while  they  eat  after  this  manner,  yet 


THE   SIEGE   AND   FALL   OF   JERUSALEM.  3 

were  they  not  concealed  in  so  doing,  but  the  seditious  every- 
where came  upon  them  immediately,  and  snatched  away  from 
them  what  they  had  gotten  from  others;  for  when  they  saw 
any  house  shut  up,  this  was  to  them  a  signal  that  the  people 
within  had  gotten  some  food,  whereupon  they  broke  open  the 
doors,  and  ran  in,  and  took  pieces  of  what  they  were  eating 
almost  up  out  of  their  very  throats,  and  this  by  force.  The 
old  men,  who  held  their  food  fast,  were  beaten,  and  if  the 
women  hid  what  they  had  within  their  hands,  their  hair  was 
torn  for  so  doing;  nor  was  there  any  commiseration  shown 
either  to  the  aged  or  to  the  infants,  but  they  lifted  up  children 
from  the  ground,  as  they  hung  upon  the  morsels  they  had 
gotten,  and  shook  them  down  upon  the  floor.  But  still  were 
they  more  barbarously  cruel  to  those  that  had  prevented  their 
coming  in,  and  had  actually  swallowed  down  what  they  were 
going  to  seize  upon  as  if  they  had  been  unjustly  defrauded 
of  their  rights.  They  also  invented  terrible  methods  of  tor- 
ment to  discover  where  any  food  was,  and  they  were  these, 
to  stop  up  the  passages  of  the  privy  parts  of  the  miserable 
wretches,  and  to  drive  sharp  stakes  up  their  fundaments;  and 
a  man  was  forced  to  bear  what  is  even  terrible  to  hear,  in 
order  to  make  him  confess  that  he  had  but  one  loaf  of  bread, 
or  that  he  might  discover  a  handful  of  barley  meal  that  was 
concealed.  And  this  was  done  when  these  tormentors  were  not 
themselves  hungry.  For  the  thing  had  been  less  barbarous, 
had  necessity  forced  them  to  do  it ;  but  this  was  done  to  keep 
their  madness  in  exercise,  and  as  making  preparation  of  pro- 
visions for  themselves  for  the  following  days,  these  men  went 
also  to  meet  those  who  had  crept  out  of  the  city  by  night,  as 
far  as  the  Roman  guards,  to  gather  some  plants  and  herbs 
that  grew  wild.  And  when  those  people  thought  they  had 
got  clear  of  the  enemy,  they  snatched  from  them  what  they 
had  brought  with  them,  even  while  they  had  frequently  en- 
treated them,  and  that  by  calling  upon  the  tremendous  name 
of  God,  to  give  them  back  some  part  of  what  they  had 
brought;  though  these  would  not  give  them  the  least  crumb, 
and  they  were  to  be  well  contented  that  they  were  only  spoiled, 
and  not  slain  at  the  same  time. 

These  were  the  afflictions  which  the  lower  sort  of  people 
suffered  from  these  tyrants'  guards;  but  for  the  men  that 


4  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

were  in  dignity,  and  withal  were  rich,  they  were  carried  be- 
fore the  tyrants  themselves.  Some  of  them  were  falsely 
accused  of  laying  treacherous  plots,  and  so  were  destroyed; 
others  of  them  were  charged  with  designs  of  betraying  the 
city  to  the  Romans.  But  the  readiest  way  of  all  was  this,  to 
suborn  somebody  to  affirm  that  they  were  resolved  to  desert 
to  the  enemy.  And  he  who  was  utterly  despoiled  of  what  he 
had  by  Simon  was  sent  back  again  to  John,  as  of  those  who 
had  already  been  plundered  by  John,  Simon  got  what  re- 
mained, insomuch  that  they  drank  the  blood  of  the  populace 
to  one  another,  and  divided  the  dead  bodies  of  the  poor  crea- 
tures between  them,  so  that  although,  on  account  of  their 
ambition  after  dominion,  they  contended  with  each  other,  yet 
did  they  very  well  agree  in  their  wicked  practices. 
*  *  * 

So  now,  Titus'  banks  were  advanced  a  great  way,  not- 
withstanding his  soldiers  had  been  very  much  distressed  from 
the  wall.  He  then  sent  a  party  of  horsemen,  and  ordered 
they  should  lay  ambushes  for  those  that  went  out  in  the  val- 
leys to  gather  food.  Some  of  these,  indeed,  were  fighting  men, 
who  were  not  contented  with  what  they  got  by  rapine;  but 
the  greater  part  of  them  were  poor  people,  who  were  deterred 
from  deserting  by  the  concern  they  were  under  for  their 
own  relations;  for  they  could  not  hope  to  escape  away  to- 
gether with  their  wives  and  children  without  the  knowledge 
of  the  seditious,  nor  could  they  think  of  leaving  these  rela- 
tions to  be  slain  by  the  robbers  on  their  account;  nay,  the 
severity  of  the  famine  made  them  bold  in  thus  going  out. 
So  nothing  remained  but  that,  when  they  were  concealed 
from  the  robbers,  they  should  be  taken  by  the  enemy,  and 
when  they  were  going  to  be  taken,  they  were  forced  to  de- 
fend themselves  for  fear  of  being  punished ;  as  after  they 
had  fought,  they  thought  it  too  late  to  make  any  supplications 
for  mercy.  So  they  were  first  whipped,  and  then  tormented 
with  all  sorts  of  tortures,  before  they  died,  and  were  then 
crucified  before  the  wall  of  the  city.  This  miserable  proce- 
dure made  Titus  greatly  to  pity  them,  while  they  caught  every 
day  five  hundred  Jews;  nay,  some  days  they  caught  more. 
Yet  did  it  not  appear  to  be  safe  for  him  to  let  those  that  were 
taken  by  force  to  go  their  way,  and  to  set  a  guard  over  so 


THE   SIEGE   AND   FALL   OF   JERUSALEM.  5 

many,  he  saw,  would  be  to  make  such  as  guarded  them  use- 
less to  him.  The  main  reason  why  he  did  not  forbid  that 
cruelty  was  this,  that  he  hoped  the  Jews  might  perhaps  yield 
at  that  sight,  out  of  fear  lest  they  might  themselves  after- 
wards be  liable  to  the  same  cruel  treatment.  So  the  soldiers, 
out  of  the  wrath  and  hatred  they  bore  the  Jews,  nailed  those 
they  caught,  one  after  one  way,  and  another  after  another, 
to  the  crosses,  by  way  of  jest,  when  their  multitude  was  so 
great  that  room  was  wanting  for  the  crosses,  and  crosses 
wanting  for  the  bodies. 

But  so  far  were  the  seditious  from  repenting  at  this  sad 
sight,  that,  on  the  contrary,  they  made  the  rest  of  the  multi- 
tude believe  otherwise,  for  they  brought  the  relations  of 
those  who  had  deserted  upon  the  wall,  with  such  of  the  popu- 
lace as  were  very  eager  to  go  over  upon  the  security  offered 
them,  and  showed  them  what  miseries  those  underwent  who 
fled  to  the  Romans ;  and  told  them  that  those  who  were  caught 
were  supplicants  to  them,  and  not  such  as  were  taken  prison- 
ers. This  sight  kept  many  of  those  within  the  city  who  were 
eager  to  desert,  till  the  truth  was  known;  yet  did  some  of 
them  run  away  immediately  as  unto  certain  punishment, 
esteeming  death  from  their  enemies  to  be  a  quiet  departure 
if  compared  with  that  of  famine.  So  Titus  commanded  that 
the  hands  of  many  of  those  that  were  caught  should  be  cut 
off  that  they  might  not  be  thought  deserters,  and  might  be 
credited  on  account  of  the  calamity  they  were  under,  and 
sent  them  into  John  and  Simon  with  this  exhortation,  that 
"  They  would  now  at  length  leave  off  (their  madness)  and 
not  force  him  to  destroy  the  city,  whereby  they  would  have 
those  advantages  of  repentance,  even  in  their  utmost  dis- 
tress, that  they  would  preserve  their  own  lives,  and  so  find 
a  city  of  their  own,  and  that  temple  which  was  their  peculiar." 
He  then  went  around  the  banks  that  were  cast  up  and 
hastened  them,  in  order  to  show  that  his  words  should  in  no 
long  time  be  followed  by  his  deeds. 

*  *  * 

There  was  a  certain  woman  that  dwelt  beyond  Jordan, 
her  name  was  Mary;  her  father  was  Eleazar,  of  the  village 
of  Bethezub,  which  signifies  the  House  of  Hyssop.  She  was 
eminent  for  her  family  and  her  wealth,  and  had  fled  away 


6  THE  VOICE  OF   HISTORY. 

to  Jerusalem  with  the  rest  of  the  multitude,  and  was  with 
them  besieged  therein  at  this  time.  The  other  effects  of  this 
woman  had  already  been  seized  upon,  such,  I  mean,  as  she 
had  brought  with  her  out  of  Perea,  and  removed  to  the  city. 
What  she  had  treasured  up  besides,  as  also  what  food  she 
had  contrived  to  save,  had  been  also  carried  off  by  the  rapa- 
cious guards,  who  came  every  day  running  into  her  house 
for  that  purpose.  This  put  the  poor  woman  into  a  very 
great  passion,  and  by  the  frequent  reproaches  and  impreca- 
tions she  cast  at  these  rapacious  villains  she  had  provoked 
them  to  anger  against  her.  But  none  of  them,  neither  out  of 
the  indignation  she  had  raised  against  herself,  nor  out  of 
commiseration  of  her  case,  would  take  her  life;  and  if  she 
found  any  food,  she  perceived  her  labors  were  for  others  and 
not  for  herself;  and  it  was  now  become  impossible  for  her 
any  way  to  find  any  more  food,  while  the  famine  pierced 
through  her  very  bowels  and  marrow,  when  also  her  passion 
was  fired  to  a  degree  beyond  the  famine  itself.  Nor  did  she 
consult  with  anything  but  with  her  passion  and  the  necessity 
she  was  in.  She  then  attempted  a  most  unnatural  thing,  and, 
snatching  up  her  son,  who  was  a  child  sucking  at  her  breast, 
she  said,  "  Oh  thou  miserable  infant !  For  whom  shall  I 
preserve  thee  in  this  war,  this  famine,  and  this  sedition?  As 
to  the  war  with  the  Romans,  if  they  preserve  our  lives,  we 
must  be  slaves.  This  famine  also  will  destroy  us,  even  before 
that  slavery  comes  upon  us,  yet  are  these  seditious  rogues 
more  terrible  than  both  the  other.  Come  on;  be  thou  my 
food,  and  be  thou  a  fury  to  these  seditious  varlets,  and  a 
byword  to  the  world,  which  is  all  that  is  now  wanting  to 
complete  the  calamities  of  us  Jews."  As  soon  as  she  had 
said  this,  she  slew  her  son  and  then  roasted  him,  and  eat 
the  one  half  of  him,  and  kept  the  other  half  by  her  concealed. 
Upon  this  the  seditious  came  in  presently,  and  smelling  the 
horrid  scent  of  this  food,  they  threatened  her  that  they  would 
cut  her  throat  immediately  if  she  did  not  show  them  what 
food  she  had  gotten  ready.  She  replied  that  "  She  had  saved 
a  very  fine  portion  of  it  for  them,"  and  withal  uncovered 
what  was  left  of  her  son.  Hereupon  they  were  seized  with 
a  horror  and  amazement  of  mind,  and  stood  astonished  at 
the  sight,  when  she  said  to  them,  "  This  is  my  own  son, 


THE   SIEGE   AND    FALL   OF   JERUSALEM.  7 

and  what  hath  been  done  was  my  own  doing.  Come,  eat  of 
this  food,  for  I  have  eaten  of  it  myself.  Do  not  you  pretend 
to  be  even  more  tender  than  a  woman  or  more  compassionate 
than  a  mother;  but  if  you  be  so  scrupulous,  and  do  abomi- 
nate this  my  sacrifice,  as  I  have  eaten  the  one  half,  let  the 
rest  be  reserved  for  me  also."  After  which,  those  men  went 
out  trembling,  being  never  so  much  affrighted  at  anything 
as  they  were  at  this,  and  with  some  difficulty  they  left  the 
rest  of  that  meat  to  the  mother.  Upon  which  the  whole  city 
was  full  of  this  horrid  action  immediately;  and  while  every- 
body laid  this  miserable  case  before  their  own  eyes,  they 
trembled,  as  if  this  unheard-of  action  had  been  done  by 
themselves.  .  .  . 

Now,  when  Titus  was  come  into  this  (upper  city),  he 
admired  not  only  some  other  places  of  strength  in  it,  but 
particularly  those  strong  towers  which  the  tyrants  in  their 
mad  conduct  had  relinquished;  for  when  he  saw  their  solid 
altitude  and  the  largeness  of  their  several  stones  and  the 
exactness  of  their  joints,  as  also  how  great  was  their  breadth, 
and  how  extensive  their  length,  he  expressed  himself  after 
the  manner  following :  "  We  have  certainly  had  God  for  our 
assistant  in  this  war,  and  it  was  none  other  than  God  who 
ejected  the  Jews  out  of  these  fortifications;  for  what  could 
the  hands  of  men,  or  any  machines,  do  toward  overthrowing 
these  towers  ?  "  At  which  time  he  had  many  such  discourses 
to  his  friends.  He  also  let  such  go  free  as  had  been  bound 
by  the  tyrants  and  were  left  in  the  prisons.  To  conclude, 
when  he  entirely  demolished  the  rest  of  the  city,  and  over- 
threw its  walls,  he  left  these  towers  as  a  monument  of  his 
good  fortune,  which  had  proved  his  auxiliaries,  and  enabled 
him  to  take  what  otherwise  could  not  have  been  taken  by  him. 
'  And  now,  since  his  soldiers  were  already  quite  tired  of 
killing  men,  and  yet  there  appeared  to  be  a  vast  multitude 
still  remaining  alive,  Caesar  gave  orders  that  they  should  kill 
none  but  those  that  were  in  arms  and  opposed  them,  but 
should  take  the  rest  alive.  But,  together  with  those  whom 
they  had  ordered  to  slay,  they  slew  the  aged  and  infirm;  for 
those,  however,  who  were  in  their  flourishing  age,  and  who 
might  be  useful  to  them,  they  drove  them  together  in  the 
temple  and  shut  them  up  within  the  walls  of  the  court  of  the 


8  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

women,  over  which  Caesar  set  one  of  his  freed  men,  as  also 
Pronto,  one  of  his  own  friends,  which  last  was  to  determine 
every  one's  fate,  according  to  his  merits.  So  this  Pronto 
slew  all  those  that  had  been  seditious  and  robbers,  who  were 
in  peace  one  by  another ;  but  of  the  young  men,  he  chose  out 
the  tallest  and  most  beautiful,  and  reserved  them  for  the  tri- 
umph; and  as  for  the  rest  of  the  multitude  that  were  above 
seventeen  years  old,  he  put  them  into  bonds,  and  sent  them  to 
the  Egyptian  mines.  Titus  also  sent  a  great  number  into  the 
provinces,  as  a  present  to  them,  that  they  might  be  destroyed 
upon  their  theaters  by  the  sword  and  by  the  wild  beasts ;  but 
those  that  were  under  seventeen  years  of  age  were  sold  for 
slaves.  Now,  during  the  days  wherein  Pronto  was  distin- 
guishing these  men,  there  perished  for  want  of  food  11,000, 
some  of  whom  did  not  taste  any  food,  through  the  hatred 
their  guards  bore  to  them,  and  others  would  not  take  any 
when  it  was  given  them.  The  multitude  also  was  so 
very  great  that  they  were  in  want  even  of  corn  for  their 
sustenance.  .  .  . 

Now,  this  vast  multitude  is  indeed  collected  out  of  re- 
mote places;  but  the  entire  nation  was  shut  up  by  fate  as  in 
prison,  and  the  Roman  army  encompassed  the  city  when  it 
was  crowded  with  inhabitants.  Accordingly,  the  multitude 
of  those  that  therein  perished  exceeded  all  the  destructions 
that  either  men  or  God  ever  brought  upon  the  world;  for, 
to  speak  only  of  what  was  publicly  known,  the  Romans  slew 
some  of  them,  some  were  carried  captives,  and  others  they 
made  a  search  for  under  ground,  and  when  they  found  where 
they  were,  they  broke  up  the  ground,  and  slew  all  they  met 
with.  There  were  also  found  slain  there  above  2,000  per- 
sons partly  by  their  own  hands  and  partly  by  one  another, 
but  chiefly  destroyed  by  the  famine;  but  then,  the  ill  savor 
of  the  dead  bodies  was  most  offensive  to  those  that  lighted 
upon  them,  insomuch  that  some  were  obliged  to  get  away  im- 
mediately, while  others  were  so  greedy  of  gain  that  they 
would  go  in  among  the  dead  bodies  that  lay  on  heaps,  and 
tread  upon  them;  for  a  great  deal  of  treasure  was  found  in 
these  caverns,  and  the  hope  of  gain  made  every  way  of 
getting  it  to  be  esteemed  lawful.  Many  also  of  those  that 
had  been  put  in  prison  by  the  tyrants  were  now  brought  out ; 


MOHAMMED HIS    METHODS.  9 

for  they  did  not  leave  off  their  barbarous  cruelty  at  the 
very  last;  yet  did  God  avenge  Himself  upon  them  both  in  a 
manner  agreeable  to  justice.  As  for  John,  he  wanted  food, 
together  with  his  brethren,  in  these  caverns,  and  begged  that 
the  Romans  would  now  give  him  their  right  hand  for  security 
which  he  had  often  proudly  rejected  before.  But  for  Simon, 
he  struggled  hard  in  the  distress  he  was  in,  till  he  was  forced 
to  surrender  himself,  as  we  shall  relate  hereafter ;  so  he  was 
preserved  for  the  triumph,  and  to  be  then  slain,  as  was  John 
condemned  to  perpetual  prison.  And  now  the  Romans  set 
fire  to  the  extreme  parts  of  the  city,  and  burned  them  down, 
and  entirely  demolished  its  walls. 


Mohammed — His  Methods. 

Washington  Irving's  Mohammed  and  His  Successors. 

In  his  usual  charming  and  attractive  style,  Irving,  after 
recording  the  wonderfully  rapid  progress  and  conquests  of  the 
Mohammedan  religion,  points  out  to  us  in  the  following  para- 
graphs the  treachery  and  militarism  by  which  this  false  prophet 
sought  still  further  to  expand  his  tyranny.  From  it  we  may 
see  how  thoroughly  different  in  principle  is  the  religion  of  Is- 
lam and  of  Christ,  the  one  endeavoring  to  conquer  by  the  sword, 
the  other  by  the  power  of  truth.  The  more  the  pity  that  in  the 
Middle  Ages,  through  the  anti-Christian  confusion  of  the  powers 
of  the  State  and  of  the  Church,  Mohammedan  ideas  should  have 
crept  into  Christendom,  and  blind  leaders  of  the  blind  should 
have  endeavored  to  spread  the  kingdom  of  peace  by  means  of 
the  sword.  May  the  history  of  these  misguided  attempts  teach 
the  followers  of  Him  who  said,  "  My  Kingdom  is  not  of  this 
world,"  to  adhere  to  this  fundamental  principle,  and  to  trust  His 
promise,  "  They  that  are  of  the  truth  shall  hear  my  voice." 

We  come  now  to  an  important  era  in  the  career  of  Mo- 
hammed. Hitherto  he  had  relied  on  argument  and  persua- 
sion to  make  proselytes,  enjoining  the  same  on  his  disciples. 
His  exhortations  to  them  to  bear  with  patience  and  long- 
suffering  the  violence  of  their  enemies  almost  emulated  the 
meek  precept  of  our  Savior,  "  If  they  smite  thee  on  the  one 
cheek,  turn  to  them  the  other  also."  He  now  arrived  at  a 
point  where  he  completely  diverged  from  the  celestial  spirit  of 
the  Christian  doctrines,  and  stamped  his  religion  with  the  alloy 


10  T»E   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

of  fallible  mortality.  His  human  nature  was  not  capable  of 
maintaining  the  sublime  forbearance  he  had  hitherto  incul- 
cated. Thirteen  years  of  meek  endurance  had  been  re- 
warded by  nothing  but  aggravated  injury  and  insult.  His 
greatest  persecutors  had  been  those  of  his  own  tribe,  the 
Koreishites,  especially  those  of  the  rival  line  of  Abd  Schems ; 
his  vindictive  chief,  Abu  Sofian,  had  now  the  sway  at  Mecca. 
By  their  virulent  hostility  his  fortunes  had  been  blasted ; 
his  family  degraded,  impoverished,  and  dispersed,  and  he 
himself  driven  into  exile.  All  this  he  might  have  continued 
to  bear  with  involuntary  meekness,  had  not  the  means  of 
retaliation  unexpectedly  sprung  up  within  his  reach.  He 
had  come  to  Medina,  a  fugitive  seeking  an  asylum,  and 
craving  merely  a  quiet  home.  In  a  little  while,  and  prob- 
ably to  his  own  surprise,  he  found  an  army  at  his  command ; 
for  among  the  many  converts  daily  made  in  Medina,  the 
fugitives  flocking  to  him  from  Mecca,  and  proselytes  from 
tribes  of  the  desert,  were  men  of  resolute  spirit,  skilled  in  the 
use  of  arms,  and  fond  of  partisan  warfare.  Human  pas- 
sions and  mortal  resentments  were  awakened  by  this  sudden 
accession  of  power.  They  mingled  with  that  zeal  for  re- 
ligious reform  which  was  still  his  predominant  motive.  In 
the  exaltations  of  his  enthusiastic  spirit,  he  endeavored  to 
persuade  himself,  and  perhaps  did  so  effectually,  that  the 
power  thus  placed  within  his  reach  was  intended  as  a  means 
of  effecting  his  great  purpose,  and  that  he  was  called  upon 
by  divine  command  to  use  it.  Such,  at  least,  is  the  purport 
of  the  memorable  manifesto  which  he  issued  at  this  epoch, 
and  which  changed  the  whole  tone  and  fortunes  of  his  faith. 
"  Different  prophets,"  said  he,  "  have  been  sent  by  God  to 
illustrate  His  different  attributes:  Moses,  His  clemency  and 
providence ;  Solomon,  His  wisdom,  majesty,  and  glory ;  Jesus 
Christ,  His  righteousness,  omniscience,  and  power; — His 
righteousness,  by  purity  of  conduct,  His  omniscience,  by  the 
knowledge  He  displayed  of  the  secrets  of  all  hearts;  His 
power,  by  the  miracles  He  wrought.  None  of  these  attri- 
butes, however,  have  been  sufficient  to  enforce  conviction, 
and  even  the  miracles  of  Moses  and  Jesus  have  been  treated 
with  unbelief.  I,  therefore,  the  last  of  the  prophets,  am  sent 
with  the  sword !  Let  those  who  promulgate  my  faith  enter 


MOHAMMED HIS    METHODS.  11 

*' 

into  no  argument  nor  discussion,  but  slay  all  who  refuse 
obedience  to  the  law.  Whoever  fights  for  the  true  faith, 
whether  he  fall  or  conquer,  will  assuredly  receive  a  glorious 
reward." 

"  The  sword,"  added  he,  "  is  the  key  of  heaven  and  hell ; 
all  who  draw  it  in  the  cause  of  the  faith  will  be  rewarded 
with  temporal  advantages;  every  drop  shed  of  their  blood, 
every  peril  and  hardship  endured  by  them,  will  be  registered 
on  high  as  more  meritorious  than  even  fasting  and  praying. 
If  they  fall  in  battle,  their  sins  will  be  at  once  blotted  out,  and 
they  will  be  transported  to  paradise,  there  to  revel  in  eternal 
pleasures  in  the  arms  of  black -eyed  houris." 

Predestination  was  brought  to  aid  these  belligerent  doc- 
trines ;  every  event,  according  to  the  Koran,  was  predestined 
from  eternity,  and  could  not  be  avoided.  No  man  could 
die  sooner  or  later  than  his  allotted  hour,  and  when  it  arrived, 
it  would  be  the  same,  whether  the  angel  of  death  should  find 
him  in  the  quiet  of  his  bed  or  amid  the  storm  of  battle. 

Such  were  the  doctrines  and  revelations  which  converted 
Islamism  of  a  sudden  from  a  religion  of  meekness  and  phi- 
lanthropy to  one  of  violence  and  the  sword.  They  were  pecul- 
iarly acceptable  to  the  Arabs,  harmonizing  with  their  habits, 
and  encouraging  their  predatory  propensities.  Virtually  pi- 
rates of  the  desert,  it  is  not  to  be  wondered  at,  after  this  open 
promulgation  of  this  religion  of  the  sword  they  should  flock 
in  crowds  to  the  standards  of  the  prophet.  Still  no  violence 
was  authorized  by  Mohammed  against  those  who  should  per- 
sist in  unbelief,  provided  they  should  readily  submit  to  his 
temporal  sway,  and  agree  to  pay  tribute;  and  here  we  see 
the  first  indication  of  worldly  ambition  and  a  desire  for 
temporal  dominion  dawning  upon  his  mind.  Still  it  will 
be  found  that  the  tribute  thus  exacted  was  subsidiary  to  his 
ruling  passion,  and  mainly  expended  by  him  in  the  extension 
of  the  faith. 

The  first  warlike  enterprises  of  Mohammed  betrayed  the 
lurking  resentment  we  have  noted.  They  were  directed 
against  the  caravans  of  Mecca,  belonging  to  his  implacable 
enemies,  the  Koreishites.  The  three  first  were  headed  by  Mo- 
hammed in  person,  but  without  any  material  result.  The 
fourth  was  confided  to  a  Moslem  named  Abdallah  Ibn  Jasch, 


12  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

who  was  sent  out  with  eight  or  ten  resolute  followers  on  the 
road  towards  South  Arabia.  As  it  was  now  the  holy  month 
of  Radjab,  sacred  from  violence  and  rapine,  Abdallah  had 
sealed  orders  not  to  be  opened  until  the  third  day.  These 
orders  were  vaguely,  yet  significantly  worded.  Abdallah  was 
to  repair  to  the  Valley  of  Naklah,  between  Mecca  and  Tayef 
(the  same  in  which  Mohammed  had  the  revelation  of  the 
Genii),  where  he  was  to  watch  for  an  expected  caravan  of 
the  Koreishites.  "  Perhaps,"  added  the  letter  of  instruction 
shrewdly,  "  perhaps  thou  mayest  be  able  to  bring  us  some 
tidings  of  it." 

Abdallah  understood  the  true  meaning  of  the  letter  and 
acted  up  to  it.  Arriving  in  the  Valley  of  Naklah,  he  descried 
the  caravan,  consisting  of  several  camels  laden  with  merchan- 
dise, and  conducted  by  four  men.  Following  it  at  a  distance, 
he  sent  one  of  his  men,  disguised  as  a  pilgrim,  to  overtake  it. 
From  the  words  of  the  latter  the  Koreishites  supposed  his 
companions  to  be  like  himself,  pilgrims  bound  to  Mecca. 
Besides  it  was  the  month  of  Radjab,  when  the  deserts  might 
be  traveled  in  security.  Scarce  had  they  come  to  a  halt,  how- 
ever, when  Abdallah  and  his  companions  fell  on  them,  killed 
one  and  took  two  prisoners ;  the  fourth  escaped.  The  victors 
then  returned  to  Medina  with  their  prisoners  and  booty. 

All  Medina  was  scandalized  at  this  breach  of  the  holy 
month.  Mohammed,  finding  that  he  had  ventured  too  far. 
pretended  to  be  angry  with  Abdailah,  and  refused  to  take  the 
share  of  the  booty  offered  to  him.  Confiding  in  the  vague- 
ness of  his  instructions,  he  insisted  that  he  had  not  com- 
manded Abdallah  to  shed  blood,  or  commit  any  violence  dur- 
ing the  holy  month. 

The  clamor  still  continuing,  and  being  echoed  by  the 
Koreishites  of  Mecca,  produced  the  following  passage  of  the 
Koran : — 

"  They  will  ask  thee  concerning  the  sacred  month, 
whether  they  may  make  war  therein.  Answer:  To  war 
therein  is  grievous;  but  to  deny  God,  to  bar  the  path  of  God 
against  His  people,  to  drive  true  believers  from  His  holy 
temple,  and  to  worship  idols  are  sins  more  grievous  than  to 
kill  in  the  holy  months." 

Having  thus  proclaimed  divine  sanction  for  the  deed,  Mo- 


MOHAMMED HIS    METHODS.  13 

hammed  no  longer  hesitated  to  take  his  share  of  the  booty. 
He  delivered  one  of  the  prisoners  on  ransom ;  the  other  em- 
braced Islamism. 

The  above  passage  of  the  Koran,  however  satisfactory  it 
may  have  been  to  the  devout  Moslems,  will  scarcely  serve  to 
exculpate  the  prophet  in  the  eyes  of  the  profane.  The  ex- 
pedition of  Abdallah  Ibn  Jasch  was  a  sad  practical  illus- 
tration of  the  new  religion  of  the  sword.  It  contemplated 
not  merely  an  act  of  plunder  and  revenge,  a  venial  act  in  the 
eyes  of  Arabs,  and  justified  by  the  new  doctrines  by  being 
exercised  against  the  enemies  of  the  faith,  but  an  outrage 
also  on  the  holy  month,  that  period  sacred  from  time  im- 
memorial against  violence  and  bloodshed,  and  which  Mo- 
hammed himself  professed  to  hold  in  reverence.  The  craft 
and  secrecy  also  with  which  the  whole  was  devised  and  con- 
ducted, the  sealed  letter  of  instructions  to  Abdallah  to  be 
opened  only  at  the  end  of  three  days,  at  the  scene  of  the 
projected  outrage,  encouched  in  language  vague,  equivocal, 
yet  sufficiently  significant  to  the  agent;  all  were  in  direct 
opposition  to  the  conduct  of  Mohammed  in  the  earlier  part 
of  career,  when  he  dared  openly  to  pursue  the  path  of  duty ; 
"  Though  the  sun  should  be  arrayed  against  him  on  the  right 
hand,  and  the  moon  on  the  left."  All  showed  that  he  was 
conscious  of  the  turpitude  of  the  act  he  was  authorizing. 
His  disavowal  of  the  violence  committed  by  Abdallah,  yet 
his  bringing  the  Koran  to  his  aid  to  enable  him  to  profit  by 
it  with  impunity,  gives  still  darker  shades  to  this  transaction ; 
which  altogether  shows  how  immediately  and  widely  he  went 
wrong  the  moment  he  departed  from  the  benevolent  spirit 
of  Christianity,  which  he  at  first  endeavored  to  emulate. 
Worldly  passions  and  worldly  interests  were  fast  getting 
the  ascendency  over  that  religious  enthusiasm  which  first  in- 
spired him.  As  has  well  been  observed :  "  The  first  drop  of 
blood  shed  in  his  name  in  the  holy  week  displayed  him  a 
man  in  whom  the  slime  of  earth  had  quenched  the  holy 
flame  of  prophecy." 


14  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

The  Crusades. 

George  W.  Cox's  The  Crusades. 

The  following  is  an  extract  from  The  Crusades  by  George 
W.  Cox.  Of  this  excellent  little  book  the  President  of  Cornell 
University  says :  "  For  the  general  reader  it  is  probably  the  most 
interesting  and  satisfactory  brief  account  of  the  crusades  yet  pro- 
duced in  English."  What  a  strange  fanaticism  seized  these 
people  that  they  undertook  such  desperate  work !  How  far  had 
their  spiritual  guides  strayed  from  the  teachings  of  the  Master 
when  they  incited  these  poor  people  to  sacrifice  all  in  order  to 
reach  the  "  holy  places,"  but  forgot  to  teach  them  that  "  Christ 
dwells  in  our  hearts  by  faith,"  and  that  the  holiest  place  on 
earth  is  the  soul  of  the  believing  Christian ;  for  it  is  the  temple 
of  the  Holy  Ghost.  When  we  read  the  story  of  "  The  Children's 
Crusade,"  of  1212,  where  an  army  of  30,000  French  children 
and  an  army  of  20,000  German  children,  each  headed  by  a 
boy,  attempted  to  wander  to  the  Holy  Land,  expecting  to  win 
what  the  most  experienced  soldiers  had  failed  to  attain,  but  won 
nothing  but  famine,  slavery,  and  death,  do  we  not  see  then  that 
the  religious  leaders  of  that  day  had  lost  not  only  the  true  con- 
ception of  Christ's  holy  religion,  but  even  the  good  sense  to 
judge  in  common  matters  of  life?  It  is  true  that  the  crusades 
were  not  devoid  of  some  good  effects,  but  these  were  fortui- 
tous, whereas  the  undertaking  itself  had  no  warrant  in  God's 
Word. 

Before  the  Roman  pontiff,  Peter  poured  forth  his  story  of 
the  wrongs  which  called  for  immediate  redress.  But  no  elo- 
quence was  needed  to  stir  the  heart  of  Urban.  The  zeal 
of  the  pope  was  probably  as  sincere  as  that  of  any  others 
who  engaged  in  the  enterprise ;  but  it  could  not  fail  to  derive 
strength  from  the  consciousness  that,  whatever  might  be 
the  result  to  the  warriors  of  the  cross,  his  own  power  would 
rest  henceforth  on  more  solid  foundations.  His  blessing 
was  therefore  eagerly  bestowed  on  the  fervent  enthusiast 
who  undertook  to  go  through  the  length  and  breadth  of  the 
land,  stirring  up  the  people  to  great  work  for  the  love  of  God 
and  of  their  own  souls.  His  eloquence  may  have  been  as 
rude  as  it  was  ready;  but  its  deficiencies  were  more  than 
made  up  by  the  earnestness  which  gave  even  to  the  glance 
of  his  eye  a  force  more  powerful  than  speech.  Dwarfish  in 
stature  and  mean  in  person,  he  was  yet  filled  with  a  fire  which 
would  not  stay,  and  the  horrors  which  were  burned  in  upon 
his  soul  were  those  which  would  most  surely  stir  the  con- 


THE   CRUSADES.  15 

science  and  rouse  the  wrath  of  his  hearers.  His  fiery  ap- 
peals carried  everything  before  them.  Wherever  he  went, 
rich  and  poor,  aged  and  young,  the  knight  and  the  peasant, 
thronged  round  the  emaciated  stranger,  who,  with  his  head 
and  feet  bare,  rode  on  his  ass,  carrying  a  huge  crucifix. 
That  form  of  which  they  beheld  the  bleeding  sign  he  had 
himself  seen ;  nay,  he  had  received  from  the  Savior  a 
letter  which  had  fallen  down  from  heaven.  He  appealed 
to  every  feeling  which  may  stir  the  heart  of  mankind  gen- 
erally, to  every  motive  which  should  have  special  power  with 
all  faithful  Christians.  He  called  upon  them  for  the  de- 
liverance of  the  land  which  was  the  cradle  of  their  faith, 
for  the  punishment  of  the  barbarian  who  had  dared  to  defile 
it,  for  the  rescue  of  the  brethren  who  were  the  victims  of 
his  tyranny. 

The  vehemence  which  choked  his  own  utterance  became 
contagious;  his  sobs  and  groans  called  forth  the  tears  and 
cries  of  the  vast  crowds  that  hung  upon  his  words,  and  that 
greedily  devoured  the  harrowing  accounts  of  the  pilgrims 
whom  Peter  brought  forward  as  witnesses  to  the  truth 
of  his  picture.  Motives  more  earthly  may  have  mingled 
with  his  austere  call  in  the  minds  of  some  who  heard  him. 
Of  these  motives  the  hermit  said  nothirfg. 

But  there  is  no  doubt  that  he  made  his  last  and  most  con- 
straining appeal  to  that  notion  of  mechanical  religion  which 
the  prophet  Micah  puts  into  the  mouth  of  Balak,  the  king  of 
Moab.  The  consciences  of  some  amongst  his  hearers  might 
be  weighed  down  by  the  burden  of  sins  too  grievous  almost 
for  forgiveness.  He  besought  them  to  remember  that  such 
fears  were  altogether  misplaced,  if  only  they  made  up  their 
minds  to  take  part  in  the  redemption  of  the  Holy  Land. 
If  they  chose  to  become  the  soldiers  of  the  cross,  their  salva- 
tion was  at  once  achieved.  There  was  no  sin,  however  fear- 
ful, which  would  not  be  canceled  by  the  mere  taking  of  the 
vow;  no  sinful  habits  which  would  not  be  condoned  in  those 
who  might  fall  in  battle  with  the  unbelievers.  The  ex- 
citement of  the  moment,  the  frenzy  which,  having  first 
unsettled  the  mind  of  the  hermit,  was  by  him  communicated 
to  his  hearers,  threw,  we  cannot  doubt,  a  specious  coloring 
over  a  degrading  morality  and  a  hopelessly  corrupting  re- 


16  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

ligion ;  but  as  little  can  we  doubt  that  the  whole  temper  which 
stirred  up  and  kept  alive  the  enterprise  left  behind  it  a 
poisoned  atmosphere  which  could  be  cleared  only  by  the 
storms  and  tempests  of  the  Reformation. 

The  preaching  of  the  hermit  predetermined  the  results  of 
the  Council  of  Clermont.  But  Urban  and  the  throng  of 
bishops  and  abbots  who  were  gathered  round  him  were  well 
aware  that  something  more  was  needed  than  the  enlisting  of 
an  army  of  zealots  for  distant  warfare.  With  our  settled 
laws  and  orderly  government,  it  is  almost  impossible  for  us  to 
realize  the  condition  even  of  the  most  advanced  states  of 
Christian  Europe  in  an  age  when  the  power  of  the  king 
over  his  vassals  meant  simply  that  which  the  strength  or 
the  weakness  of  the  vassals  made  it  and  when  the  vassal, 
if  he  owed  allegiance  to  his  lord,  was  bound  by  no  ties  to  his 
fellow-vassals.  The  system  of  feudalism  could  not  fail  to 
feed  the  worst  passions  of  human  nature;  and  the  absence 
of  an  authority  capable  of  constraining  all  alike  involved  for 
those  who  felt  or  fancied  themselves  aggrieved  an  irresist- 
ible temptation  to  take  the  law  into  their  own  hands. 

But  the  practice  of  private  war  thus  set  up  would  sooner 
or  later  assume  the  form  of  a  trade,  and  in  the  words  of 
William  of  Malmesbury  things  had  now  come  to  so  wretched  a 
pass  that  feudal  chiefs  would  take  each  other  captive  on  little 
or  no  pretense,  and  would  set  their  prisoners  free  only  on 
the  payment  of  an  enormous  ransom.  This  military  violence 
of  the  laity  was  accompanied  by  corruption  on  the  part  of 
the  clergy,  showing  itself  in  a  shameless  traffic  of  benefices 
and  dignities  which,  in  brief  phrase,  fell  to  the  lot  of  the  high- 
est bidder.  In  such  a  condition  of  things  to  drain  off  to  dis- 
tant lands  a  large  proportion  of  the  men  who  at  home  might 
do  something  to  check,  if  not  to  repress,  the  mischief,  would  be 
to  leave  those  who  remained  behind  defenseless.  Decrees 
were  therefore  passed  condemning  private  wars;  confirming 
the  Truce  of  God,  which  suspended  all  hostilities  during  four 
days  of  each  week,  and  placing  the  women  and  the  clergy 
under  the  protection  of  the  Church,  which  in  an  especial  man- 
ner was  extended  to  merchants  and  husbandmen  for  three 
years. 

When,  the  business  of  the  council  being  ended,  Urban 


THE  CRUSADES.  17 

ascended  a  lofty  scaffold  and  began  his  address  to  the  people, 
he  spoke  to  hearers  for  whom  arguments  were  no  longer 
needed,  but  who  were  well  pleased  to  hear  from  the  chief 
of  Christendom  words  which  carried  with  them  comfort 
and  encouragement.  Three  forms  or  versions  of  this 
speech  have  been  preserved  to  us,  one  in  the  pages 
of  William  of  Tyre,  a  second  in  those  of  William  of 
Malmesbury,  a  third  from  a  manuscript  in  the  Vatican.  It 
is  possible  that  they  may  represent  three  different  speeches; 
but  the  substance  of  all  is  the  same,  and  we  are  left  in  no 
doubt  of  the  general  tenor  of  his  words.  With  some  in- 
consistency he  dwelt  on  the  cowardice  of  the  barbarians  who 
had  contrived  to  conquer  Syria,  and  whose  tyranny  called 
forth  the  appeal  which  he  now  made  to"  them.  The  Turk, 
shrinking  from  close  encounter,  trusted  to  his  bow  and 
arrow ;  and  the  venom  of  his  poisoned  shaft,  not  the  bravery 
of  a  valiant  warrior,  inflicted  death  on  the  man  whom  it 
struck. 

Their  fears,  he  added,  were  justified;  for  the  blood  which 
ran  in  the  veins  of  men  born  in  countries  scorched  with  the 
heat  of  the  sun  was  scanty  in  stream  and  poor  in  quality 
as  compared  with  that  which  coursed  through  the  bodies  of 
men  belonging  to  more  temperate  regions.  In  these  tem- 
perate regions  you  were  born,  he  pleaded,  and  you  have 
therefore  a  title  to  victory  which  your  enemies  can  never  ac- 
quire. You  have  prudence,  you  have  discipline,  you  have 
skill  and  valor,  and  you  will  go  forth,  through  the  gift  of 
God  and  the  privilege  of  St.  Peter,  absolved  from  all  your 
sins.  The  consciousness  of  this  freedom  shall  soothe  the  toil 
of  your  journey,  and  death  will  bring  to  you  the  benefits 
of  a  blessed  martyrdom.  Suffer  and  torture  may  perhaps 
await  you.  You  may  picture  them  to  yourselves  as  the  most 
exquisite  tortures,  and  the  picture  may  perhaps  fall  short  of 
the  agony  which  you  may  have  to  undergo;  but  your  suf- 
ferings will  redeem  your  souls  at  the  expense  of  your  bodies. 
Go,  then,  on  your  errand  of  love  which  will  put  out  of  sight 
all  the  ties  that  bind  you  to  the  spots  which  you  have  called 
your  homes.  Your  homes  in  truth  they  are  not.  For  the 
Christian  all  the  world  is  exile,  and  all  the  world  is,  at  the 
same  time,  his  country.  If  you  leave  a  rich  patrimony  here, 

2 


18  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

a  better  patrimony  is  promised  to  you  in  the  Holy  Land. 
They  who  die  will  enter  the  mansions  of  heaven,  while  the 
living  shall  behold  the  sepulcher  of  their  Lord.  Blessed, 
such  a  recompense ;  happy  they  who  are  led  to  such  a  con- 
flict that  they  may  share  in  such  rewards ! 

It  was  no  wonder  that  words  thus  striking  chords  of 
feeling  already  stretched  to  intensity  should  be  interrupted 
with  the  passionate  cry,  "  It  is  the  will  of  God !  It  is  the 
will  of  God !  "  which  broke  from  the  assembled  multitude. 
"  It  is  in  truth  His  will,"  added  the  pontiff,  "  and  let  these 
words  be  your  war-cry  when  you  unsheathe  your  swords 
against  the  enemy.  You  are  soldiers  of  the  cross ;  wear  then 
on  your  breasts  or  on  your  shoulders,  the  blood-red  sign  of 
Him  who  died  for  the  salvation  of  your  souls.  Wear  it  as  a 
token  that  His  help  will  never  fail  you;  wear  it  as  a  pledge 
of  a  vow  which  can  never  be  recalled." 

By  these  words  the  war  now  proclaimed  against  the 
Turks  received  the  name  which  has  become  a  general  title 
for  all  wars  or  hostile  undertakings  carried  on  in  the  name 
of  religion.  Thousands  hastened  at  once  to  put  on  the  armor 
and  so  to  take  their  place  among  the  ranks  of  the  crusaders. 

The  rival  claims  of  the  anti-pope  withheld  Urban  him- 
self from  taking  the  pledge  to  which  he  was  clamorously 
invited ;  and  worldly  prudence  alone  may  have  suggested  the 
wisdom  of  standing  aloof  from  a  conflict  in  which  disaster 
to  a  Roman  pontiff  would  certainly  be  regarded  as  a  visible 
sign  of  the  divine  displeasure. 

Of  the  clergy  the  first  to  assume  the  cross  was  Adhemar 
(Aymer),  bishop  of  Puy,  and  as  his  reward  he  received  the 
powers  and  dignity  of  papal  legate.  At  the  head  of  the 
laity,  Raymond,  count  of  Toulouse,  duke  of  Narbonne,  and 
marquis  of  Provence,  promised  through  his  ambassadors  to  be 
ready  by  the  Feast  of  the  Assumption,  August  15,  next  fol- 
lowing the  council,  the  day  fixed  for  the  departure  of  the  cru- 
sading hosts  for  Constantinople. 

Thus  was  the  die  cast  for  a  venture  which  in  the  eye  of 
a  keen-sighted  general  or  a  far-seeing  statesman  should  have 
boded  little  good,  but  which  held  out  irresistible  attractions 
for  the  great  mass  of  the  people, — attractions  which  contin- 
ued to  draw  hundreds  and  thousands  still  to  the  unknown 


THE    CRUSADES.  19 

and  mysterious  East,  when  a  long  series  of  disasters  had 
proved  that  the  journey  to  Jerusalem  was  in  all  likelihood 
a  journey  to  the  grave.  For  the  really  sincere  and  devout, 
whose  lives  had  been  passed  without  reproach,  and  who 
could  await  the  future  with  a  clear  conscience,  there  was  the 
deep  sense  of  binding  duty,  the  yearning  to  be  brought  nearer, 
whether  on  earth  or  in  heaven,  to  the  Master  whom  they 
loved.  For  the  feudal  chieftain  there  was  the  fierce  pastime 
of  war  which  formed  the  main  occupation  and  perhaps  the 
only  delight  of  his  life,  with  the  wild  excitement  produced 
by  the  thought  that  the  indulgence  of  his  passions  had  now 
become  a  solemn  act  of  religion.  There  was  also  the  pros- 
pect of  vast  and  permanent  conquest;  and  the  duke  or  count 
who  left  a  fair  domain  behind  him  might  look  forward  to  the 
chance  of  winning  a  realm  as  splendid  as  that  which  Robert 
Guiscard  and  his  Normans  had  won  in  Apulia  and  Sicily. 
For  the  common  herd,  and  those  whom  gross  living  had 
rendered  moral  cowards,  there  was  the  offer  of  a  method  by 
which  they  might  wipe  away  their  guilt  without  changing 
their  character  and  disposition.  Not  a  few  might  be  caught 
by  the  philosophy  of  the  abbot  Guibert,  who  boldly  drew  a 
parallel  between  the  crusades  and  holy  orders,  or  monarchism. 
That  height  of  perfection  which  ecclesiastics  might  reach  in 
their  own  sphere  was  now  attainable  by  laymen  through  an 
enterprise  in  which  their  usual  license  and  habits  of  life 
would  win  them  the  favor  of  God  not  less  than  the  most  un- 
sparing austerity  of  the  monk  or  the  priest.  It  was,  in  short, 
a  new  mode  of  salvation,  and  they  who  were  hurrying  along 
the  broad  road  to  destruction  now  found  that  the  taking  of 
a  vow  converted  it  into  the  narrow  and  rugged  path  to 
heaven. 

Nor  was  the  number  few  of  those  for  whom  this  con- 
venient arrangement  was  combined  with  some  solid  temporal 
advantages.  The  cross  on  the  breast  or  shoulder  set  free 
from  the  clutches  of  his  lord  the  burgher  or  the  peasant  at- 
tached to  the  soil,  opened  the  prison  doors  for  malefactors  of 
every  kind,  released  the  debtor  from  the  obligation  of  paying 
interest  on  his  debts  while  he  wore  the  sacred  badge,  and 
placed  him  beyond  the  reach  of  his  creditors. 

Lastly,  the  episode  of  a  crusade  might  be  for  the  priest 


20  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

a  pleasant  interruption  to  the  dull  routine  of  parochial  work, 
to  the  monk  an  agreeable  change  from  the  wearisome 
monotony  of  his  conventual  life.  The  usurer  and  the  creditor 
might  fancy  himself  to  be  somewhat  hardly  treated.  Yet 
they  were  among  the  few  to  whom  the  crazy  enterprise 
(crazy  not  from  the  impracticability  of  its  objects,  but  from 
the  way  in  which  these  were  followed)  brought  a  solid  bene- 
fit. The  unthinking  throng  might  rush  off  to  Palestine  with- 
out making  the  least  preparation  for  their  journey  or  their 
maintenance  in  the  blind  faith  that  they  would  be  fed  and 
clothed  like  the  fowls  of  the  air  or  the  lilies  of  the  field. 

But  for  those  who  could  judge  more  soberly,  and  for  those 
who  were  not  willing  to  forego  their  luxuries  or  their  pleas- 
ures, there  was  the  need  of  providing  a  store  of  the  precious 
metals  by  means  of  which  alone  their  wishes  could  be  grati- 
fied. The  duke,  who  had  to  maintain  a  vast  and  brilliant 
retinue,  was  compelled  to  mortgage  his  dominions;  and  thus 
for  the  sum  of  ten  thousand  marks  wrung  from  the  lower 
orders  in  the  English  state,  William  Rufus  obtained  from  his 
brother  Robert  the  government  of  his  dukedom  for  five  years 
and  took  care  that  the  prize  so  won  should  not  slip  again 
from  his  grasp.  Nobles  and  knights,  setting  off  on  the 
crusade,  all  wished  to  sell  land,  all  wished  to  buy  arms  and 
horses.  The  arms  and  horses  therefore  became  ruinously 
dear,  the  lands  ridiculously  cheap.  It  is  easy  to  see  that 
the  prudent  trader,  the  cautious  merchant,  the  landowner 
whose  eye  was  fixed  on  the  main  chance,  would  stand  at 
an  enormous  advantage. 

THE  FIRST  CRUSADE. 

Little  more  than  half  the  time  allowed  for  the  gathering 
of  the  crusaders  had  passed  away,  when  a  crowd  of  some 
60,000  men  and  women,  neither  caring  nor  thinking  about  the 
means  by  which  their  ends  could  be  attained,  insisted  that  the 
hermit  Peter  should  lead  them  at  once  to  the  Holy  City. 
Mere  charity  may  justify  the  belief  that  some  even  among 
these  may  have  been  folk  of  decent  lives  moved  by  the 
earnest  conviction  that  their  going  to  Jerusalem  would  do 
some  good.  That  the  vast  majority  looked  upon  their  vow 
as  a  license  for  the  commission  of  any  sin  there  can  be  no 


THE   CRUSADES.  21 

moral  doubt;  that  they  exhibited  not  a  single  quality  needed 
for  the  successful  prosecution  of  their  enterprise  is  abso- 
lutely certain.  With  a  foolhardiness  equal  to  his  ignorance, 
Peter  undertook  the  task,  in  which  he  was  aided  by  Walter 
the  Penniless,  a  man  with  some  pretentions  to  the  soldierlike 
character.  But  the  utter  disorder  of  this  motley  host  made  it 
impossible  for  them  to  journey  long  together.  At  Cologne 
they  parted  company;  and  15,000  under  the  penniless  Walter 
made  their  way  to  the  frontiers  of  Hungary,  while  Peter  led 
onward  a  host  which  swelled  gradually  on  the  march  to 
about  40,000. 

Another  army,  or  horde,  of  perhaps  20,000  marched  under 
the  guidance  of  Emico,  count  of  Leiningen,  a  third  under 
that  of  the  monk  Gottschalk,  a  man  not  notorious  for  the 
purity  or  disinterestedness  of  his  motives.  Behind  these  came 
a  rabble,  it  is  said,  of  about  200,000  men,  women,  and  children, 
preceded  by  a  goose  and  a  goat,  or,  as  some  have  supposed, 
by  banners  on  which,  as  symbols  of  the  mysterious  faith  of 
Gnostics  and  Paulicians,  the  likeness  of  these  animals  was 
painted.  In  this  vile  horde  no  pretense  was  kept  up  of  order 
or  decency.  Sinning  freely,  it  would  seem,  that  grace  might 
abound,  they  plundered  and  harried  the  lands  through  which 
they  marched,  while  3,000  horsemen,  headed  by  some  counts 
and  gentlemen,  were  not  too  dignified  to  act  as  their  attend- 
ants and  to  share  their  spoil. 

But  if  they  had  no  scruple  in  robbing  Christians,  their  de- 
light was  to  prove  the  reality  of  their  mission  as  soldiers  of 
the  cross  by  plundering,  torturing,  and  slaying  the  Jews. 
A  crusade  against  the  Turk  was  interpreted  as  a  crusade 
directed  not  less  explicitly  against  the  descendants  of  those 
who  had  crucified  the  Redeemer.  The  streets  of  Verdun 
and  Treves,  and  of  the  great  cities  on  the  Rhine,  ran  red  with 
the  blood  of  their  victims;  and  if  some  saved  their  lives  by 
pretended  conversions,  many  more  cheated  their  persecutors 
by  throwing  their  property  and  their  persons  either  into  the 
rivers  or  into  the  consuming  fires. 

Thus  auspiciously  began  the  mighty  enterprise  on  which 
Pope  Urban  had  insisted  as  the  first  duty  of  all  Christians; 
and  thus  early  did  the  result  of  his  preaching  tend  to  revive 
the  waning  power  of  the  emperor,  who  interposed  his  author- 


22  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

ity  to  this  merciless  onslaught  on  a  peaceful  and  useful  class 
of  his  subjects.  The  Jews  were  taken  under  the  protection  of 
the  empire,  and  for  the  time  the  change  was  a  real  relief. 
Their  posterity  found  to  their  cost  that  their  guardian  might 
in  his  turn  become  their  plunderer  and  tormentor.  A  space 
of  six  hundred  miles  lay  between  the  Austrian  frontier  and 
Constantinople ;  and  across  the  dreary  waste  the  followers  of 
Walter  the  Penniless  struggled  on,  destitute  of  money,  and 
rousing  the  hostility  of  the  inhabitants,  whom  they  robbed 
and  ill-used.  In  Bulgaria  their  misdeeds  provoked  reprisals 
which  threatened  their  destruction;  and  none  perhaps  would 
have  reached  Constantinople  if  the  imperial  commander  at 
Naissos  had  not  rescued  them  from  their  enemies,  supplied 
them  with  food,  and  guarded  them  through  the  remainder 
of  their  journey.  These  succors  involved  some  costs;  and 
the  costs  were  paid  by  the  sale  of  unarmed  men  among  the 
pilgrims,  and  especially  of  the  women  and  children,  who  were 
seized  to  provide  the  necessary  funds.  Of  those  who  formed 
the  train  of  the  hermit  Peter,  7,000  only,  it  is  said,  reached 
Constantinople. 

Of  such  a  rabble  rout  the  Emperor  Alexios  needed  not  to 
be  afraid.  Alexios  wished  simply  to  be  rid  of  their  presence : 
they  had  to  deal  with  an  enemy  still  more  crafty  and  formi- 
dable in  the  Seljukian  Sultan  David,  whose  surname  Kilidje 
Arslan  marked  him  out  as  the  Sword  of  the  Lion.  The  va- 
grants whom  Peter  and  Walter  had  brought  thus  far  on  the 
road  to  Jerusalem  were  scattered  about  the  land  in  search 
of  food ;  and  it  was  no  hard  task  for  David  to  cheat  the  main 
body  with  the  false  tidings  that  their  companions  had  carried 
the  walls  of  Nice  (Nikaia),  and  were  reveling  in  the  pleasures 
and  spoils  of  his  capitol.  The  doomed  horde  rushed  into  the 
plain  which  fronts  the  city;  and  a  vast  heap  of  bones  alone 
remained  to  tell  the  story  of  the  great  catastrophe,  when  the 
forces  which  might  more  legitimately  claim  the  name  of  an 
army,  passed  the  spot  where  the  Seljukian  had  entrapped  and 
crushed  his  victims.  In  this  wild  expedition  not  less,  it  is 
said,  than  three  hundred  thousand  human  beings  had  already 
paid  the  penalty  of  their  lives. 


MORAL  CONDITION   OF  CHURCH    IN    MIDDLE  AGES.     23 

The  Moral  Condition  of  the  Church  in  the 
Middle  Ages. 

Lea's  An  Historical  Sketch   of  Sacerdotal  Celibacy  in  the 
Christian  Church. 

History  ought  not  only  record  the  contests  and  vicissitudes 
of  the  field,  the  intrigues  and  plans  of  courts  and  kings,  the 
revolutions  of  nations,  and  the  military  achievements  of  their 
soldiers;  it  ought  also  picture  to  us  the  life  of  the  people  in 
their  homes,  their  habits,  their  morals,  and  their  modes  of 
thought.  This  is  especially  true  of  that  period  of  time  which 
is  known  as  the  Dark  Ages.  That  was  a  time  when  men  strug- 
gled on  in  darkness,  and  tyrants  endeavored  to  force  their 
theories  and  superstition  upon  God's  people.  Henry  C.  Lea 
has  undertaken  in  this  volume  to  relate  and  to  describe  the 
efforts  of  the  leaders  of  the  Church  of  that  day  to  force  upon 
the  servants  of  the  Church  an  unnatural  morality.  No  other 
book  gives  us  such  a  clear  and  unbiased  view  of  the  development 
of  the  tyranny  and  the  results  of  its  exercise  among  the  clergy 
as  this  historical  sketch,  and  one  who  is  willing  to  spend  some 
time  in  becoming  acquainted  with  the  great  revolutions  in 
the  life  of  nations  should  not  fail  to  study  this  portion  of  the 
moral  history  of  civilized  peoples.  No  amount  of  other  his- 
torical reading  can  supply  the  enlightenment  that  is  derived 
from  the  careful  investigation  of  this  subject  at  the  hand  of 
such  an  able  writer  as  Mr.  Lea.  We  see  here  again  that 
Popery  has  driven  its  people  away  from  Christ,  and  into  un- 
speakable misery,  agony  of  conscience,  vice,  and  despair. 

The  unrelaxing  efforts  of  two  centuries  had  at  length 
achieved  an  inevitable  triumph.  One  by  one  the  different 
churches  of  Latin  Christendom  yielded  to  the  fiat  of  the 
successor  of  St.  Peter,  and  their  ecclesiastics  were  forced  to 
forego  the  privilege  of  assuming  the  most  sacred  of  earthly 
ties,  with  the  sanction  of  heaven  and  the  approbation  of  man. 
Sacerdotalism  vindicated  its  claim  to  exclusive  obedience; 
the  Church  successfully  asserted  its  right  to  command  the  en- 
tire life  of  its  members,  and  to  sunder  all  the  bonds  that  might 
allure  them  to  render  a  divided  allegiance.  In  theory,  at 
least,  all  who  professed  a  religious  life,  or  assumed  the  sacred 
ministry,  were  given  up  wholly  to  the  awful  service  which 
they  had  undertaken;  no  selfishly  personal  aspirations  could 
divert  their  energies  from  the  aggrandizement  of  their  class, 
nor  were  the  temporal  possessions  of  the  establishment  to 
be  exposed  to  the  minute  but  all-pervading  dilapidation  of  the 
wife  and  family. 


24  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

If  these  were  the  objects  of  the  movement  inaugurated  by 
Damiani  and  Hildebrand,  and  followed  up  with  such  unre- 
lenting vigor  by  Calixtus  and  Alexander  and  Innocent,  the 
history  of  the  Medieval  Church  attests  how  fully  they  were 
attained.  It  is  somewhat  instructive,  indeed,  to  observe  that 
in  the  rise  of  the  papal  power  to  its  culmination  under  In- 
nocent III  it  was  precisely  the  pontiffs  most  conspicuous  for 
their  enforcement  of  the  rule  of  celibacy  who  were  likewise 
most  prominent  in  their  assertion  of  the  supremacy,  temporal 
and  spiritual,  of  the  head  of  the  Roman  Church.  Whether  or 
not  they  recognized  and  acknowledged  the  connection,  they 
labored  as  though  the  end  in  view  was  clearly  appreciated, 
and  their  triumphs  on  the  one  field  were  sure  to  be  followed 
by  corresponding  successes  on  the  other. 

Yet  in  all  this  the  ostensible  object  was  always  repre- 
sented to  be  the  purity  of  the  Church  and  of  its  ministers. 
The  other  advantages  were  either  systematically  ignored,  or 
but  casually  alluded  to.  If  the  results  which  were  thus  kept 
in  the  background  were  attained,  what  was  the  effect  with 
regard  to  those  which  were  held  out  as  the  sole  and  sufficient 
reason  for  reforming  the  great  body  of  the  Church,  and  re- 
suscitating the  all  but  forgotten  law  which  opened  an  impass- 
able gulf  between  the  ecclesiastic  and  the  layman? 

One  warning  voice,  indeed,  was  raised  in  a  quarter  where 
it  would  have  at  least  commanded  respectful  attention,  had 
not  the  Church  appeared  to  imagine  itself  superior  to  the  or- 
dinary laws  of  cause  and  effect.  While  Innocent  II  was 
laboring  to  enforce  his  new  doctrine  that  ordination  and  re- 
ligious vows  were  destructive  of  marriage,  St.  Bernard,  the 
ascetic  reformer  of  monachism  and  the  foremost  ecclesiastic 
of  his  day,  was  thundering  against  the  revival  of  Manicheism. 
The  heresies  of  the  Albigenses  respecting  marriage  were  to 
be  combated,  and  in  performing  this  duty,  he  pointed  out 
with  startling  vigor  the  evils  to  the  Church  and  to  mankind 
of  the  attempt  to  enforce  a  purity  incompatible  with  human 
nature.  Deprive  the  Church  of  honorable  marriage,  he  ex- 
claimed, and  you  fill  her  with  concubinage,  incest,  and  all 
manner  of  nameless  vice  and  uncleanness.  It  was  still  an 
age  of  faith ;  and  while  earnest  men  like  St.  Bernard  could 
readily  anticipate  the  evils  attendant  upon  the  asceticism  of 


MORAL   CONDITION    OF   CHURCH    IN    MIDDLE   AGES.      25 

heretics,  they  could  yet  persuade  themselves,  as  the  Council  of 
Trent  subsequently  expressed  it,  that  God  would  not  deny 
the  gift  of  chastity  to  those  who  wisely  sought  it  in  the 
bosom  of  the  true  Church.  Thus,  despite  the  divine  warn- 
ing, they  were  resolved  deliberately  to  tempt  the  Lord,  and 
it  remains  for  us  to  see  what  was  the  success  of  the  attempt. 
It  is  somewhat  significant  that  when,  in  France,  the  rule 
of  celibacy  was  completely  restored,  strict  churchmen  should 
have  found  it  necessary  to  revive  the  hideously  suggestive 
restriction  which  denied  to  the  priest  the  society  of  his 
mother  or  of  his  sister.  Even  in  the  profoundest  barbarism 
of  the  tenth  century,  or  the  unbridled  license  of  the  eleventh ; 
even  when  Damiani  descanted  upon  the  disorders  of  his  con- 
temporaries with  all  the  cynicism  of  the  most  exalted  as- 
ceticism, horrors  such  as  these  are  not  alluded  to.  It  was  re- 
served for  the  advancement  of  the  thirteenth  century  and  the 
enforcement  of  celibacy  to  show  us  how  outraged  human 
nature  may  revenge  itself,  and  protest  against  the  shackles 
imposed  by  blind  and  unreasoning  bigotry.  In.  1208,  Guala, 
Cardinal  of  St.  Martin,  Innocent's  legate  in  France,  issued 
an  order  in  which  he  not  only  repeated  the  threadbare  prohi- 
bitions respecting  focariae  and  concubines,  but  commanded 
that  even  mothers  and  other  relatives  should  not  be  allowed 
to  reside  with  men  in  holy  orders,  the  devil  being  the  conve- 
nient personage  on  whom,  as  usual,  was  thrown  the  responsi- 
bility of  the  scandals  which  were  known  to  occur  under  such 
circumstances.  That  this  decree  was  not  allowed  to  pass 
into  speedy  oblivion  is  shown  by  a  reference  to  it  as  still 
well  known  and  enforced  a  century  later  in  the  statutes  of  the 
church  of  Treguier ;  and  that  the  necessity  of  it  was  not  eva- 
nescent may  be  assumed  from  its  repetition  in  the  regulations 
of  the  see  of  Nismes,  the  date  of  which  is  uncertain,  but  prob- 
ably attributable  to  the  close  of  the  fourteenth  century.  At 
the  same  time,  we  have  evidence  that  Cardinal  Guala's  efforts 
were  productive  of  little  effect.  Four  years  later,  in  1212, 
we  find  Innocent  formally  authorizing  the  prelates  of  France 
to  mercifully  pardon  those  who  had  been  excommunicated 
under  Guala's  rule,  with  the  suggestive  proviso  that  the 
power  thus  conferred  was  not  to  be  used  for  the  purpose  of 
extorting  unhallowed  gains.  Still  more  significant  is  the 


26  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

fact  that  in  the  same  year  Innocent  dispatched  another  legate, 
Cardinal  Robert,  duly  commissioned  to  renew  the  endless 
task  of  purifying  the  Gallican  Church.  Guala's  efforts  would 
already  seem  to  have  passed  into  oblivion,  for  in  a  council 
which  Cardinal  Robert  held  in  Paris  he  gravely  promulgated 
a  canon  forbidding  the  priesthood  from  keeping  their  con- 
cubines so  openly  as  to  give  rise  to  scandal,  and  threatened 
the  recalcitrants  with  excommunication  if  they  should  persist 
in  retaining  their  improper  consorts  for  forty  days  after 
receiving  notice. 

The  clergy  of  France  were  not  exceptional,  and,  unfor- 
tunately, there  can  be  no  denial  of  the  fact  that  notorious  and 
undisguised  illicit  unions  or  still  more  debasing  secret  li- 
centiousness was  a  universal  and  pervading  vice  of  the 
Church  throughout  Christendom.  Its  traces  among  all  ec- 
clesiastical legislation  of  the  thirteenth,  fourteenth,  and 
fifteenth  centuries  are  too  broad  and  deep  to  be  called  into 
question,  and  if  no  evidence  remained  except  the  constant  and 
unavailing  efforts  to  repress  it,  that  alone  would  be  suffi- 
cient. National  and  local  synods,  pastoral  epistles,  statutes 
of  churches,  all  the  records  of  ecclesiastical  discipline  are  full 
of  it.  Now  deploring  and  now  threatening,  exhausting  in- 
genuity in  devising  new  regulations  and  more  effective 
punishments,  the  prelates  of  those  ages  found  themselves  in- 
volved in  a  task  as  endless  and  as  bootless  as  that  of  the 
Danaidae.  Occasionally,  indeed,  it  is  lost  sight  of  momen- 
tarily, when  the  exactions  and  usurpations  of  the  laity  or  the 
gradual  extension  of  secular  jurisdiction  monopolized  the 
attention  of  those  who  were  bound  to  defend  the  privileges  of 
their  class ;  but  with  these  rare  exceptions,  it  may  be  asserted 
as  a  general  truth  that  scarcely  a  synod  met,  or  a  body  of  laws 
were  drawn  up  to  govern  some  local  church,  in  which  the 
subject  would  not  receive  a  prominent  position  and  careful 
consideration.  It  would  be  wearisome  and  unprofitable  to 
recapitulate  here  the  details  of  this  fruitless  iteration  without 
by  any  means  exhausting  the  almost  limitless  materials  for  in- 
vestigation. I  have  collected  a  formidable  mass  of  references 
upon  the  subject,  but  an  examination  of  them  shows  so  little 
novelty  and  so  constantly  a  recurrence  to  the  starting  point 
that  no  new  principles  can  be  evolved  from  them,  and  their 


MORAL  CONDITION   OF  CHURCH    IN   MIDDLE  AGES.     27 

only  interest  lies  in  their  universality,  and  in  demonstrating 
how  resultless  was  the  unceasing  effort  to  remove  the  un- 
eflfacable  plague-spot. 


If  the  irregular,  though  permanent,  connections  which 
everywhere  prevailed  had  been  the  only  result  of  the  pro- 
hibition of  marriage,  there  might  perhaps  have  been  little 
practical  evil  flowing  from  it,  except  to  the  Church  itself  and 
to  its  guilty  members.  When  the  desires  of  man,  however, 
are  once  tempted  to  seek  through  unlawful  means  the  relief 
denied  to  them  by  artificial  rules,  it  is  not  easy  to  set  bounds 
to  the  unbridled  passion  which,  irritated  by  the  fruitless 
attempt  at  repression,  are  no  longer  restrained  by  a  law  which 
has  been  broken,  or  a  conscience  which  has  lost  its  power. 
The  records  of  the  Middle  Ages  are  accordingly  full  of  the 
evidences  that  indiscriminate  license  of  the  worst  kind  pre- 
vailed throughout  every  rank  of  the  hierarchy.  The  subject  is 
too  repulsive  to  be  presented  in  all  its  loathsome  details, 
but  one  or  two  allusions  may  be  permitted  as  completing  the 
picture  of  the  moral  condition  of  the  medieval  Church. 

The  abuse  of  the  awful  authority  given  by  the  altar  and 
the  confessional  was  a  subject  of  sorrowful  and  indignant  de- 
nunciation in  too  many  synods  for  a  reasonable  doubt  to  be 
entertained  of  its  frequency  or  of  the  corruption  which  it 
spread  through  innumerable  parishes.  The  almost  entire  im- 
punity with  which  these  and  similar  scandals  were  per- 
petrated ted  to  an  undisguised  and  cynical  profligacy  which 
the  severer  churchmen  themselves  admitted  to  exercise  a 
most  deleterious  influence  on  the  morals  of  the  laity,  who 
thus  found  in  their  spiritual  guides  the  exemplars  of  evil. 
Chaucer,  with  his  wide  range  of  observation  and  shrewd 
native  sense,  was  not  likely  to  let  a  matter  so  important 
escape  him,  and  in  the  admirable  practical  sermon  which 
forms  his  "  Persone's  Tale  "  he  records  the  conviction  which 
every  pure-minded  man  felt  with  regard  to  the  demoralizing 
tendency  of  the  sacerdotal  licentiousness  of  the  time.  -TJ^qmas 
of  Cantinpre,  indeed,  one  of  the  early  lights  of  the  Dominican 
Order,  is  authority  for  a  legend  which  represents  the  devil 
as  thanking  the  prelates  of  the  Church  for  conducting  almost 
all  Christendom  to  hell.  The  popular  feeling  on  the  subject 


28  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

perhaps  receives  its  fittest  expression  in  a  satire  on  the 
mendicant  friars,  written  by  a  Franciscan  novice  who  became 
disgusted  with  the  order  and  turned  Wickliffite.  The  ex- 
aggerated purity  and  mortification  of  the  early  followers  of 
the  blessed  St.  Francis  had  long  since  yielded  to  the  tempta- 
tions which  attended  on  the  magnificent  success  of  the  order  ; 
and  the  asceticism  which  had  been  powerful  enough  to 
cause  the  visions  of  the  holy  Stigmata,  degenerated  into 
sloth  and  crime  which  took  advantage  of  the  opportunities 
afforded  by  the  privileges  to  hear  confession. 

When  such  was  the  moral  condition  of  the  priesthood,  and 
such  were  the  influences  which  they  cast  upon  the  flocks 
entrusted  to  their  guidance,  it  is  not  to  be  wondered  at  if  those 
who  deplored  so  disgraceful  a  state  of  things,  and  whose  re- 
spect for  the  canons  precluded  them  from  recommending  the 
natural  and  appropriate  remedy  of  marriage,  should  regard 
an  organized  system  of  concubinage  as  a  safeguard.  How- 
ever deplorable  such  an  alternative  might  be  in  itself,  it  was 
surely  preferable  to  the  mischief  which  the  unquenched  and 
ungoverned  passions  of  a  pastor  might  inflict  upon  his  parish  ; 
and  the  instances  of  this  were  too  numerous  and  too  glaring 
to  admit  of  much  hesitation  in  electing  between  the  two  evils. 
Even  Gerson,  the  leader  of  the  mystic  ascetics,  who  recorded 
his  unbounded  admiration  for  the  purity  of  celibacy  in  his 
Dialogus  Naturae  et  Sophiae  de  Castitate  Clericorum,  saw 
and  appreciated  its  practical  evils,  and  had  no  scruple  in 
recommending  concubinage  as  a  preventive,  which,  though 
scandalous  in  itself,  might  serve  to  prevent  greater  scandals. 
'it  therefore  requires  no  great  stretch  of  credulity  to  believe 
the  assertion  of  Sleidan  that  in  some  of  the  Swiss  Cantons 
it  was  the  custom  to  oblige  a  new  pastor  on  entering  upon  his 
functions  to  select  a  concubine,  as  a  necessary  protection  to 
the  virtue  of  his  female  parishioners,  and  to  the  peace  of  the 
families  entrusted  to  his  spiritual  direction.  Indeed,  we 
have  already  seen,  on  the  authority  of  the  Council  of  Pa- 
lencia  in  1322,  that  such  a  practice  was  not  uncommon  in 


Even  supposing  that  this  fearful  immorality  were  not 
attributable  to  the  immutable  laws  of  nature  revenging 
themselves  for  their  attempted  violation,  it  could  readily  be 


MORAL   CONDITION    OF   CHURCH    IN    MIDDLE   AGES.      29 

explained  by  the  example  set  by  the  central  head.     Scarcely 
had  the   efforts   of   Nicholas   and   Gregory   put   an   end   to 
sacerdotal  marriage  in  Rome  when  the  morals  of  the  Roman 
clergy  became  a  disgrace  to  Christendom. 
*  *  * 

What  were  the  influences  of  the  papal  court  in  the  next 
century  may  be  gathered  from  the  speech  which  Cardinal 
Hugo  made  to  the  Lyonese,  on  the  occasion  of  the  departure 
of  Innocent  IV,  in  1251,  from  their  city,  after  a  residence 
of  eight  years :  "  Friends,  since  our  arrival  here  we  have 
done  much  for  your  city.  When  we  came,  we  found  here 
three  or  four  brothels.  We  leave  behind  us  one.  We  must 
own,  however,  that  it  extends  without  interruption  from  the 
eastern  to  the  western  gate" — the  crude  cynicism  of  which 
greatly  disconcerted  the  Lyonese  ladies  present.  Robert 
Grosseteste,  Bishop  of  Lincoln,  therefore  only  reflected  the 
popular  conviction  when,  on  his  deathbed  in  1253,  inveighing 
against  the  corruption  of  the  Papal  Court,  he  applied  to  it 
the  lines: 

Ejus  avaritiae  totus  non  sufficit  orbis, 
Ejus  luxuriae  meretrix   non  sufficit  omnis. 

A  hundred  years  later  saw  the  popes  again  in  France.  For 
forty  years  they  had  bestowed  on  Avignon  all  the  benefits, 
moral  and  spiritual,  arising  from  the  presence  of  the  vice- 
gerent of  Christ,  when  Petrarch  recorded,  for  the  benefit  of 
friends  whom  he  feared  to  compromise  by  naming,  the  im- 
pression produced  by  his  long  residence  there  in  the  house- 
hold of  a  leading  dignitary  of  the  Church.  Language  seems 
too  weak  to  express  his  abhorrence  of  that  third  Babylon,  that 
hell  upon  earth,  which  could  furnish  no  Noah,  no  Deucalion 
to  survive  the  deluge  that  alone  could  cleanse  its  filth, — and 
yet  he  intimates  that  fear  compels  him  to  restrain  the  full  ex- 
pression of  his  feelings.  Chastity  was  a  reproach  and  li- 
centiousness a  virtue.  The  aged  prelates  surpassed  their 
younger  brethren  in  wickedness  as  in  years,  apparently  con- 
sidering that  age  conferred  upon  them  the  license  to  do  that 
from  which  even  youthful  libertines  shrank,  while  the  vilest 
crimes  were  the  pastimes  of  pontifical  ease.  Juvenal  and 
Brantome  can  suggest  nothing  more  shameless  or  more 
foul. 


30  THE  VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

Note:  After  such  facts  and  such  public  testimony  to  the 
truth  of  all  that  history  records  against  enforced  celibacy,  it  is 
little  wonder  that  honest  men  are  filled  with  contempt  and 
disgust  for  the  church  which  still  defends  and  even  enforces 
this  system  among  its  clergy. 


Henry — Hildebrand — Canossa. 

Milraan's  Latin  Christianity. 

The  great  contest  between  the  temporal  and  spiritual  powers 
in  the  Middle  Ages  reached  its  climax  in  the  struggle  between 
King  Henry  IV  and  Pope  Hildebrand.  It  originated  in  the  con- 
fusion which  prevailed  in  those  days  on  the  question  of  the 
powers  of  the  Church  and  the  province  of  the  State,  Had 
Hildebrand  adhered  to  the  word  of  Him  whom  he  claimed  to 
represent  and  who  said  "  My  kingdom  is  not  of  this  world," 
he  would  not  have  arrogated  to  himself  the  right  to  dictate  even 
in  temporal  matters  to  the  rulers  of  this  world. 

By  the  Pope's  claiming  for  himself  the  right  to  rule  in 
matters  purely  political  and  temporal,  demanding  that  his  bish- 
ops rule  as  princes,  it  came  to  pass  that  one  and  the  same  per- 
son was  both  the  temporal  ruler  of  a  province  and  also  the 
spiritual  guide  of  the  people.  Imagine  a  Roman  Catholic  arch- 
bishop to  hold  the  office  of  Governor  of  the  state  of  New  York, 
and  you  have  the  situation.  The  emperor  claimed  the  right 
to  appoint  such  a  prince  because  he  was  his  vassal ;  the  pope 
demanded  the  right  to  fill  such  a  vacancy  because  he  was  his 
bishop.  Hence  the  conflict. 

Let  the  student  of  history  attentively  read  the  description 
which  Milman  gives  us  in  such  a  masterful  manner  of  this  most 
remarkable  scene  at  Canossa,  and  let  him  learn  how  sad  and  dis- 
astrous are  the  results  which  must  follow  the  usurpation,  by  any 
church,  of  temporal  power. 

It  is  important  carefully  to  observe  the  ground  which 
Hildebrand  took  in  that  manifesto  of  war — of  war  disguised 
under  the  words  of  reconciliation:  whether  the  lofty  moral 
assertion  that  he  was  placed  on  high  to  rebuke  the  unchristian 
acts  of  kings,  or  even  to  assert  the  liberty  of  their  oppressed 
subjects;  or  the  lower,  the  questionable  right  to  confer  bene- 
fices, and  the  king's  disobedience  in  ecclesiastical  matters  to 
the  See  of  Rome. 

"  Deeply  and  anxiously  weighing  the  responsibilities  of  the 
trust  committed  to  us  by  St.  Peter,  we  have  with  great  hesi- 
tation granted  our  apostolic  benediction,  for  it  is  reported 


HENRY HILDEBRAND CANOSSA.  31 

that  thou  still  boldest  communion  with  excommunicated  per- 
sons. If  this  be  true,  the  grace  of  the  benediction  avails  me 
nothing.  Seek  ghostly  council  of  some  sage  priest,  and  per- 
form the  penance  imposed  upon  thee."  He  proceeds  to  re- 
prove the  king  for  the  hypocritical  submissiveness  of  his  let- 
ters and  the  disobedience  of  his  conduct.  The  grant  of  the 
Archbishop  Ric  of  Milan,  without  waiting  the  decision  of 
the  Apostolic  See,  the  investiture  of  the  bishoprics  of  Fermo 
and  Spoleto  made  to  persons  unknown  to  the  pope,  were  acts 
of  irreverence  to  St.  Peter  and  his  successor.  "  The  apos- 
tolic synod  over  which  he  presided  this  year  thought  fit  in  the 
decay  of  the  Christian  religion  to  revert  to  the  ancient  disci- 
pline of  the  Church,  that  discipline  on  which  depends  the 
salvation  of  man.  This  decree  (however  some  may  presume 
to  call  it  an  insupportable  burden  or  intolerable  oppression) 
we  esteem  a  necessary  law;  all  Christian  kings  and  people 
are  bound  directly  to  accept  and  observe  it.  As  thou  art 
the  highest  in  the  dignity  and  power,  so  shouldest  thou  sur- 
pass others  in  devotion  to  Christ.  If,  however,  thou  didst 
consider  this  abrogation  of  a  bad  custom  hard  or  unjust  to 
thyself,  thou  shouldest  have  sent  to  our  presence  some  of  the 
wisest  and  most  religious  of  thy  realm  to  persuade  us,  in  our 
condescension,  to  mitigate  its  force  in  some  way  not  incon- 
sistent with  the  honor  of  God  and  the  salvation  of  men's  souls. 
We  exhort  thee,  in  our  parental  love,  to  prefer  the  honor  of 
Christ  to  thine  own,  and  to  give  full  liberty  to  the  Church,  the 
spouse  of  God."  Hildebrand  then  alludes  to  the  victory  of 
Henry  over  the  Saxons,  with  significant  reference  to  the  date 
of  Saul,  whom  success  in  war  led  into  fatal  impiety. 

The  date  of  this  letter,  when  written  and  when  received, 
is  not  absolutely  certain ;  it  was  coupled  with,  or  immediately 
followed  by,  a  peremptory  summons  to  Henry  to  appear  in 
Rome  to  answer  for  all  his  offenses  before  the  tribunal  of  the 
Pope  and  before  a  synod  of  ecclesiasts ;  if  he  should  refuse 
or  delay,  he  was  at  once  to  suffer  the  sentence  of  excom- 
munication. The  22d  of  February  was  the  day  appointed 
for  his  appearance. 

Thus  the  King,  the  victorious  King  of  the  Germans,  was 
solemnly  cited  as  a  criminal  to  answer  undefined  charges, 
to  be  amenable  to  laws  which  the  judge  had  assumed  the 


32  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

right  of  enacting,  interpreting,  enforcing  by  the  last  penalties. 
The  whole  affairs  of  the  empire  were  to  be  suspended  while 
the  King  stood  before  the  bar  of  the  imperious  arbiter.  No 
delay  was  allowed;  the  stern  and  immutable  alternative  was 
humble  and  instant  obedience,  or  that  sentence  which  involved 
deposition  from  the  empire,  eternal  perdition. 

In  this  desperate  emergency  one  course  alone  seemed  left 
open.  In  Germany  the  idea  of  the  temporal  sovereign  was 
but  vague,  indistinct,  and  limited;  he  was  but  the  head  of  an 
assemblage  of  independent  princes,  his  powers,  if  not  legally, 
actually  bounded  by  his  ability  to  enforce  obedience.  The 
Caesra  was  but  an  imposing  and  magnificent  title  which  Teu- 
tonic pride  gloried  in  having  appropriated  to  its  sovereign, 
but  against  which  the  old  Teutonic  independence  opposed  a 
strong,  often  invincible  resistance.  The  idea  of  the  pope  was 
an  integral  part  of  German  Christianity;  dread  of  excom- 
munication part  of  the  faith,  to  question  which  was  a  bold 
act  of  infidelity. 

It  was  only  then  by  invalidating  the  title  of  the  individual 
pope  that  he  could  be  lawfully  resisted,  or  his  authority 
shaken  in  the  minds  of  the  multitude.  It  was  a  daring  de- 
termination, but  it  was  the  only  determination  to  which 
Henry  and  his  ecclesiastical  counselors  could  well  have  re- 
course, to  depose  a  Pope  who  had  thus  declared  war,  even 
to  the  death,  against  him.  Not  a  day  was  to  be  lost ;  if  the 
pope  were  still  pope  on  the  fatal  22d  of  February,  the  ir- 
repealable  excommunication  would  be  passed.  The  legates 
who  brought  this  denunciatory  message  were  dismissed  with 
ignominy.  Messengers  were  dispatched  with  breathless  haste 
to  summon  the  prelates  of  Germany  to  meet  at  the  faithful 
city  of  Worms,  on  Septuagesima  Sunday,  January  24.  After 
the  death  of  Hanno  of  Cologne,  Henry,  knowing  too  well  the 
danger  of  that  princely  see  in  able  hands,  had  forced  into 
it  a  monk  named  Hildorf,  of  obscure  birth,  an  insignificant 
person,  feeble  in  mind. 

On  the  appointed  day,  besides  the1  secular  partisans  of 
Henry,  the  bishops  and  abbots  of  Germany  obeyed  the  royal 
summons  in  great  numbers.  Siegfried  of  Mentz  took  his 
seat  as  president  of  the  Synod.  Cardinal  Hugo  the  White, 
the  same  man  who  had  taken  the  lead  in  the  election  of 


HENRY HILDEBRAND CANOSSA.  33 

Hildebrand,  and  commended  him  by  the  glowing  panegyric 
on  his  virtues  to  the  Roman  people,  came  forward,  no  doubt, 
as  pretending  to  represent  the  clergy  of  Rome,  and  arraigned 
Pope  Gregory  before  the  Synod  as  the  worst  and  wickedest 
of  men.  His  extravagant  and  monstrous  charges  dwelt  on 
the  early  life  of  Gregory,  on  the  bribery  and  violence  by 
which  he  had  gained  the  papacy,  the  licentiousness  and  the 
flagitiousness  of  his  life  as  Pope,  his  cruelty,  his  necromancy. 
He  demanded  the  deposition  of  Gregory  VII.  With  loud  and 
unanimous  acclamation  the  Synod  declared  that  a  man  guilty 
of  such  crimes  (crimes  of  which  no  shadow  of  proof  was 
adduced,  and  which  rested  on  the  assertion  of  one  himself 
excommunicated,  it  was  averred,  for  simony)  had  forfeiteH 
the  power  of  binding  and  loosing, — he  was  no  longer  pope. 
The  renunciation  of  allegiance  was  drawn  up  in  the  strictest 
and  most  explicit  form.  "I,  ...  bishop  of  .  .  .  ,  disclaim 
from  this  hour  all  subjection  and  allegiance  to  Hildebrand, 
and  will  neither  esteem  nor  call  him  pope."  Two  bishops 
only,  Adelbert  of  Wuerzburg  and  Herman  of  Metz,  hesitated 
to  sign  this  paper.  They  argued  that  it  was  unjust  and  un- 
canonical  to  condemn  a  bishop  without  a  general  council, 
without  accusers  and  defenders,  and  without  communicating 
the  charges  against  him;  how  much  more  a  pope,  against 
whom  the  accusation  of  a  bishop,  or  even  of  an  archbishop, 
was  not  valid.  But  William  of  Utrecht,  the  boldest,  the  most 
learned,  and  the  staunchest  partisan  of  Henry,  offered  them 
the  alternative  of  disclaiming  their  allegiance  to  the  King  or 
affixing  their  signature.  To  this  force  they  yielded  an  un- 
willing approbation. 

The  letter  of  Henry  to  the  Pope,  conveying  the  decree  of 
the  council,  was  couched  in  the  most  arrogant  and  insulting 
terms,  and  so  neutralized  the  bitter  truths  which,  more  calmly 
expressed,  might  have  wrought  on  impartial  minds,  if  such 
there  were.  "  Henry,  not  by  usurpation,  but  by  God's  ordi- 
nance, King,  to  Hildebrand,  no  longer  pope,  but  the  false 
monk."  It  accused  him  of  the  haughtiness  with  which  he 
tyrannized  over  every  order  of  the  Church,  and  had  trampled 
archbishops,  bishops,  the  whole  clergy,  under  his  feet.  He 
had  pretended  to  universal  knowledge  as  to  universal  power. 
"  By  the  authority  of  the  priesthood,  thou  hast  even  threatened 

3 


34  THE  VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

to  deprive  us  of  our  royal  authority,  that  priesthood  to  which 
thon  wast  never  called  by  Christ."  "  By  craft  thou  hast  got 
money,  by  money  influence,  by  influence  the  power  of  the 
sword ;  by  the  sword  thou  hast  mounted  to  the  throne  of  peace, 
and  from  the  throne  of  peace  destroyed  peace,  arming  subjects 
against  their  rulers,  bringing  bishops  appointed  by  God  into 
contempt,  and  exposing  them  to  the  judgment  of  the  laity. 
Us,  too,  consecrated  of  God,  amenable  to  no  judge  but  God, 
who  can  be  deposed  for  no  crime  but  absolute  apostasy,  thou 
hast  ventured  to  assail,  despising  the  words  of  that  true  Pope, 
St.  Peter,  '  Fear  God  !  honor  the  king ! '  Thou  that  honorest 
not  the  king,  fearest  not  God!  St.  Paul  held  accursed 
even  an  angel  from  heaven  who  should  preach  another  gospel ; 
this  curse  falls  upon  thee  who  teachest  this  new  doctrine." 
44  Thus  accursed,  then,  thus  condemned  by  the  sentence  of 
all  our  bishops  and  by  our  own,  down !  Leave  the  apostolic 
throne  which  thou  hast  usurped.  Let  another  take  the  chair 
of  St.  Peter,  one  who  preaches  not  violence  and  war,  but  the 
sound  doctrine  of  the  holy  apostle.  I,  Henry,  by  the  grace 
of  God  king,  with  all  the  bishops  of  my  realm,  say  unto  thee, 
'  Down !  Down ! ' " 

Another  letter  was  addressed  to  the  clergy  and  people  of 
Rome.  In  this  the  King  accuses  the  Pope  of  having  sworn  to 
deprive  him  of  the  kingdom  of  Italy.  "  Gregory  would  haz- 
ard his  own  life,  or  strip  the  King  of  his  life  and  kingdom." 
As  patrician,  therefore,  Henry  had  deposed  the  Pope,  and 
now  commands  them  on  our  allegiance  to  rise  up  against  him. 
"  Be  the  most  loyal  the  first  to  join  in  his  condemnation. 
We  do  not  ask  you  to  shed  his  blood ;  let  him  suffer  life,  which, 
after  he  is  deposed,  will  be  more  wretched  to  him  than  death ; 
but  if  he  resist,  compel  him  to  yield  up  the  apostolic  throne, 
and  make  way  for  one  whom  we  shall  elect,  who  will  have 
both  the  will  and  the  power  to  heal  the  wounds  inflicted  on 
the  Church  by  their  present  pastor." 

The  German  church  seemed  to  enter  into  the  bold  and 
open  revolt  of  Henry ;  in  Lombardy  the  old  party  of  Cadalous 
and  of  the  married  clergy,  maintained  and  guided  by  Guibert 
of  Ravenna,  showed  equal  resolution.  A  synod  at  Piacenza 
ratified  the  decree  of  Worms. 

Gregory,  in  the  mean  time,  had  summoned  his  third  coun- 


HENRY HILDEBRAND CANOSSA.  35 

cil  in  the  Lateran.  He  sat  among  his  assembled  bishops. 
The  hymn  had  ceased  which  implored  the  descent  of  the 
Holy  Ghost  on  this  great  Christian  assembly.  The  bold  and 
sudden  entrance  of  Roland,  a  priest  of  Parma,  was  hardly 
perceived  amid  the  grave  occupation  to  which  (as  genuine 
descendants  of  old  Romans  who,  when  the  fate  of  kings  and 
nations  depended  on  their  vote,  usually  commenced  their  sol- 
emn council  by  consulting  the  augurs,  and  waiting  for  some 
significant  omen)  they  had  surrendered  their  absorbed  at- 
tention. An  egg  had  been  found  which,  by  its  mysterious 
form,  portended  the  issue  of  the  conflict.  What  seemed  a 
black  serpent,  the  type  of  evil,  rose,  as  it  were,  in  high  relief 
and  coiled  around  the  smooth  shell ;  but  it  had  struck  on  what 
seemed  a  shield,  and  recoiled,  bruised  and  twisting  in  a  mor- 
tal agony.  On  this  sight  sat  gazing  the  mute  ecclesiastical 
senate. 

But  the  voice  of  Roland  made  itself  heard.  "The  king 
and  the  bishops  of  Germany  send  this  mandate.  Down  at 
once  from  the  throne  of  St.  Peter !  Yield  up  the  usurped 
government  of  the  Roman  Church !  None  must  presume  to 
such  honor  but  those  chosen  by  the  general  voice,  and  ap- 
proved by  the  Emperor."  He  turned  to  the  amazed  assembly 
— "  Ye,  my  brethren,  are  commanded  to  present  yourselves 
at  the  Feast  of  Pentecost  before  the  King,  my  master,  there 
to  receive  a  Pope  and  Father;  for  this  man  is  no  pope,  but  a 
ravening  wolf." 

The  fiery  Bishop  of  Porto  sprang  from  his  seat,  and 
shouted  with  a  loud  voice,  "  Seize  him !  "  Cencius,  the  gov- 
ernor of  the  city,  and  his  soldiers  sprang  forth  to  hew  the 
audacious  envoy  in  pieces.  Gregory  interposed  his  own  per- 
son, protected  the  King's  ambassador,  and  with  difficulty  re- 
stored order.  He  received  the  documents  presented  by 
Roland,  and  with  his  wonted  calm  dignity  read  the  acts  of 
the  councils,  with  the  taunting  letter  of  the  King. 

Murmurs  of  vehement  indignation  burst  forth  from  the 
whole  synod;  they  sank  again  as  Gregory  commenced  his  ad- 
dress, urging  them  to  respect  the  sanctity  of  the  place.  In 
his  speech,  skillfully,  it  may  hardly  be  said,  yet  naturally, 
his  own  cause  was  assumed  to  be  that  of  the  clergy,  of  the 
Church,  of  Christianity.  "  These  were  the  coming  and  pre- 


36  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

dieted  days  in  which  it  behooved  the  clergy  to  show  the 
innocence  of  the  dove,  blended  with  the  wisdom  of  the  ser- 
pent. The  forerunner  of  Antichrist  had  risen  against  the 
Church ;  the  dry  harvest  was  about  to  be  wet  with  the  blood 
of  the  saints.  Now  is  the  time  when  it  will  be  shown  who 
is  ashamed  of  his  Lord,  of  whom  the  Lord  will  be  ashamed 
at  His  second  coming.  Better  is  it  to  die  for  Christ  and 
His  holy  laws  than,  by  shamefully  yielding  to  those  who 
violate  and  trample  them  under  foot,  to  be  traitors  te  the 
Church;  not  to  resist  such  impious  men  were  to  deny  the 
faith  of  Christ."  With  the  gravity  of  an  ancient  augur 
he  proceeded  to  interpret  the  sign  of  the  egg.  The  serpent 
was  the  dragon  of  the  Apocalypse  raging  against  the  Church ; 
and  in  the  same  old  Roman  spirit  he  drew  the  omen  of  vic- 
tory from  its  discomfiture.  "  Now,  therefore,  brethren,  it 
behooves  us  to  draw  the  sword  of  vengeance;  now  must  we 
smite  the  foe  of  God  and  of  His  Church;  now  shall  the 
bruised  head  which  lifts  itself  in  its  haughtiness  against  the 
foundation  of  the  faith  and  of  all  the  churches,  fall  to  the 
earth,  there,  according  to  the  sentence  pronounced  against 
his  pride,  to  go  upon  his  belly  and  eat  the  dust.  Fear  not, 
little  flock,  saith  the  Lord,  for  it  is  the  will  of  your  Father  to 
grant  you  the  kingdom.  Long  enough  have  ye  borne  with 
him;  often  enough  have  ye  admonished  him;  let  his  seared 
conscience  be  made  at  length  to  feel !  " 

The  whole  synod  replied  with  one  voice,  "  Let  thy  wis- 
dom, most  holy  Father,  whom  the  divine  mercy  has  raised  up 
to  rule  the  world  in  our  days,  utter  such  a  sentence  against 
this  blasphemer,  this  usurper,  this  tyrant,  this  apostate,  as 
may  crush  him  to  the  earth,  and  make  him  a  warning  to  fu- 
ture ages.  .  .  .  Draw  the  sword,  pass  the  judgment,  that  the 
righteous  may  rejoice  when  he  sceth  the  vengeance,  and  wash 
his  hands  in  the  blood  of  the  ungodly." 

The  formal  sentence  was  delayed,  to  prepare  it  in  more 
awful  terms,  till  the  next  day.  On  the  morning  arrived  let- 
ters from  many  prelates  and  nobles  of  Germany  and  Italy 
disclaiming  the  acts  of  the  synods  of  Worms  and  Piacenza, 
and  imploring  the  forgiveness  of  the  Pope  for  their  enforced 
assent  to  those  decrees.  The  pontiff  again  took  his  seat  in 
the  Lateran,  encircled  by  no  bishops  and  abbots.  The  first 


HENRY — HILDEBRAND CANOSSA.  37 

sentence  fell  on  Siegfried  of  Mentz,  and  the  prelates  who  had 
concurred  in  the  proceedings  at  Worms.  They  were  sus- 
pended from  the  episcopal  functions,  and  interdicted  from  the 
holy  Eucharist,  unless  in  the  hour  of  death  and  after  due  and 
accepted  penance.  Those  who  had  assented  from  compulsion 
were  allowed  time  to  make  their  peace  with  the  Apostolic  See. 
The  prelates  who  met  at  Piacenza  were  condemned  to  the 
same  punishment.  Some  other  censures  were  spoken  against 
other  prelates  and  nobles  of  the  empire;  but  the  awe-struck 
assembly  awaited  in  eager  expectation  that  against  the  arch- 
criminal,  King  Henry.  The  Empress  Agnes  was  among  the 
audience ;  the  stern  stoicism  of  the  monastic  life  had  even 
wrought  a  mother's  heart  to  listen  to  the  sentence,  perhaps 
of  eternal  damnation,  against  her  son. 

Hildebrand  commenced  his  sentence  with  an  address  to 
St.  Peter,  and  renewed  protestations  of  the  reluctance  against 
which  he  had  been  compelled  to  ascend  the  pontifical  throne. 
"  In  full  confidence,  in  authority  over  all  Christian  people, 
granted  by  God  to  the  delegate  of  St.  Peter,  for  the  honor  and 
defense  of  the  Church,  in  the  name  of  Almighty  God,  the 
Father,  the  Son,  and  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  by  the  power  and 
authority  of  St.  Peter,  I  interdict  King  Henry,  son  of  Henry 
the  Emperor,  who  in  his  unexampled  pride  has  risen  against 
the  Church,  from  the  government  of  the  whole  realm  of  Ger- 
many and  of  Italy.  I  absolve  all  Christians  from  the  oaths 
which  they  have  sworn  or  may  swear  to  him,  and  forbid  all 
obedience  to  him  as  king.  For  it  is  just  that  he  who  impugns 
the  honor  of  the  Church  should  himself  forfeit  all  the  honor 
which  he  seems  to  have;  and  because  he  has  scorned  the 
obedience  of  a  Christian,  nor  returned  to  the  Lord,  from 
whom  he  had  revolted  by  holding  communion  with  the  ex- 
communicate, by  committing  many  iniquities,  and  despising 
the  admonitions  which,  as  thou  knowest,  I  have  given  him 
for  his  salvation,  and  has  separated  himself  from  the  Church 
by  creating  schism:  I  bind  him,  therefore,  in  thy  name, 
in  the  bonds  of  thy  anathema,  that  all  the  nations  may 
know  and  may  acknowledge  that  thou  art  Peter,  that  upon 
thy  rock  the  Son  of  the  living  God  has  built  His  Church, 
and  that  the  gates  of  hell  shall  not  prevail  against  it." 

When  the  Senate  or  the  Emperors  of  Rome  issued  their 


38  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

mandates  to  the  extremity  of  the  world,  they  were  known 
to  be  supported  by  vast  and  irresistible  armies.  The  man- 
dates of  Hildebrand  were  to  promulgate,  to  execute  them- 
selves. He  was  master,  indeed,  in  Rome;  he  might  depend, 
perhaps,  on  the  support  of  his  ally,  the  Countess  Matilda; 
he  might,  possibly,  as  a  last  refuge,  summon  the  Normans, 
an  uncertain  trust  to  his  succor.  But  on  these  things  he 
seemed  to  disdain  to  waste  a  thought;  on  himself,  on  his 
censures,  on  the  self-assured  righteousness  of  his  cause,  on 
the  fears  of  men,  and  doubtless  on  what  he  believed  the 
pledged  and  covenanted  protection  of  the  saints,  of  Christ, 
of  God,  he  calmly  relied  for  what  he  would  not  doubt  would 
be  his  final  triumph. 

King  Henry  heard  in  Utrecht,  March  27,  the  sentence 
of  the  Pope.  His  first  impression  was  that  of  dismay;  but 
he  soon  recovered  himself,  affected  to  treat  it  with  con- 
tempt, and  determined  to  revenge  himself  by  the  excom- 
munication of  the  Pope.  The  Bishops  of  Toul  and  Verdun, 
though  attached  to  Henry,  had  disapproved  of  the  con- 
demnation of  the  Pope;  they  secretly  withdrew  from  the 
city  to  escape  the  perilous  office  now  demanded  of  them. 
In  William  of  Utrecht  fidelity  to  the  King  had  grown  into 
a  fierce  hatred  of  the  Pope.  Not  merely  did  he  utter  the 
sentence  of  excommunication,  but  followed  it  up  with  busy 
zeal.  At  every  opportunity,  even  when  performing  the 
sacred  office,  he  broke  forth  against  the  perjurer,  the  adult- 
erer, the  false  apostle;  and  pronounced  excommunicated, 
not  by  himself  alone,  but  by  all  the  bishops  of  Germany. 
Nor  was  William  absolutely  alone;  a  council  at  Pavia, 
summoned  by  the  indefatigable  Guibert,  met  and  anathema- 
tized Gregory. 

But  while  these  vain  thunders  had  no  effect  on  the  rigid 
churchmen  and  the  laity  who  adhered  to  the  Pope,  the  ex- 
communication of  Henry  was  working  in  the  depths  of 
the  German  mind,  and  mingling  itself  up  with,  and  seeming 
to  hallow,  all  the  other  motives  for  jealousy,  hatred,  and 
revenge  which  prevailed  in  so  many  parts  of  the  empire. 
A  vast  and  formidable  conspiracy  began  to  organize  itself, 
hardly  in  secret.  The  Dukes  Rudolph  of  Swabia,  Guelf  of 
Bavaria,  Berthold  of  Carinthia,  with  the  Bishops  of  Wuerz- 


HENRY — HILDEBRAND CANOSSA.  39 

burg  and  Metz,  were  at  the  head  of  the  league  which  com- 
prehended men  knew  not  whom, — there  was  no  one  whom 
it  might  not  comprehend.  The  King  summoned  a  diet  at 
Worms,  but  the  prudent,  and  those  conscious  of  sinister  de- 
signs, kept  away.  It  separated  without  coming  to  any  con- 
clusion. A  second  was  summoned  for  St.  Peter's  day,  to 
meet  at  Mentz. 

But  even  before  the  diet  at  Worms  an  event  had  taken 
place  which  had  appalled  all  Germany — the  sudden  death  of 
William  of  Utrecht.  Terrible  rumors  of  the  circumstances 
of  his  fate  spread  throughout  the  land,  darkening,  no  doubt, 
as  they  went  on.  In  the  delirium  of  his  mortal  sickness  he 
had  reproached  himself  for  his  wicked  and  impious  conduct 
towards  the  Pope,  entreated  his  attendants  not  to  weary 
themselves  with  the  fruitless  prayers  for  his  soul  irrecover- 
ably lost.  He  had  died,  it  was  said,  without  the  Holy  Com- 
munion. The  blasphemer  of  Hildebrand  had  perished  in  an 
agony  of  despair;  and  God  had  not  only  pronounced  His 
awful  vengeance  against  the  blasphemer  himself,  the  cathe- 
dral which  had  witnessed  the  ceremony  of  Gregory's  excom- 
munication had  been  struck  by  the  lightning  of  heaven. 

Even  after  death  the  terrible  power  of  Gregory  pursued 
William  of  Utrecht.  In  answer  to  an  inquiry  of  the  Bishop 
of  Liege,  the  Pope  sternly  replied  that,  if  William  of 
Utrecht  had  knowingly  communicated  with  the  excommuni- 
cated Henry  (and  of  this  fact  and  of  his  impenitence  there 
could  be  no  doubt),  the  inexorable  interdict  must  follow  him 
beyond  the  grave.  Unabsolved  he  lived  and  died,  there  was 
no  absolution  after  death;  no  prayers,  no  sacrifices,  no  alms 
could  be  offered  for  William  of  Utrecht. 

Henry  looked  abroad  into  the  Empire,  which,  but  the 
year  before  his  victory  at  Hohenburg,  had  awed  at  least 
into  outward  peace,  and  where  the  obsequious  clergy  at 
Worms  had  seemed  to  join  him  almost  with  unanimity  in  his 
defiance  of  Hildebrand.  On  every  side  he  now  saw  hostility, 
avowed  or  secret,  conspiracy,  desertion;  the  princes  medi- 
tating revolt,  the  prelates  either  openly  renouncing  or  shaken 
in  their  allegiance.  Herman  of  Metz  had  released  some  of 
the  Saxon  chieftains  committed  to  his  charge;  he  was  evi- 
dently assuming  the  rank  of  head  of  the  Hildebrandine  party 


40  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

among  the  ecclesiastics  of  Germany.  Henry  had  threatened 
to  revenge  himself  by  marching  at  once  and  occupying  Metz, 
but  had  been  obliged  to  abandon  that  decisive  measure. 
The  defection  of  Otho  of  Nordheim,  to  whom  the  final  sup- 
pression of  the  Saxon  rebellion  had  been  entrusted,  and  who 
at  least  had  listened  to  the  overtures  of  the  insurgents,  was 
still  more  embarrassing,  and  broke  up  all  his  warlike  plans. 
At  Mentz  the  assembly  both  of  prelates  and  nobles  was 
more  numerous  than  at  the  second  assembly  summoned  at 
Worms;  but  the  leaders  of  the  opposition  whom  Henry  had 
hoped  either  to  gain  or  overawe,  and  whose  attendance,  sink- 
ing from  the  imperious  language  of  command,  he  had  con- 
descended to  implore,  still  kept  aloof,  and,  without  declaration 
of  hostility,  maintained  a  sullen  but  menacing  neutrality. 
Yet  enough  appeared  at  the  diet  to  show  the  dreadful  effects 
to  be  apprehended  from  the  approaching  conflict,  and  the 
nature  of  the  resistance  which  was  to  be  encountered  by  the 
King.  Throughout  Germany  house  was  divided  against 
house,  family  against  family,  kindred  against  kindred.  Udo, 
Archbishop  of  Treves,  the  third  of  the  great  Rhenish  prelates, 
had  passed  the  Alps  to  make  his  peace  with  Gregory ;  he  had 
been  received  with  courtesy,  and  had  yielded  himself  up  ab- 
solutely to  the  spell  of  Hildebrand's  commanding  mind.  His 
conduct  on  his  return  was  sufficiently  expressive.  With  cold 
determination  he  refused  to  hold  any  intercourse  with  nis 
brother  metropolitans,  the  excommunicated  Siegfried  and 
Hildorf  of  Cologne,  and  with  the  other  bishops  of  Henry's 
party.  Only  by  the  express  permission  of  the  Pope  would  he 
venture  into  the  infected  presence  of  the  excommunicated 
King  himself,  in  order  to  give  him  good  council.  He  shrank 
from  the  sin  and  condemnation  of  eating  with  him,  or  join- 
ing him  in  prayer.  The  contagion  of  fear  and  aversion 
spread  into  the  palace  of  Henry.  The  ecclesiastics  shrank 
away  one  by  one,  lest  they  should  be  defiled  by  the  royal 
intercourse.  To  the  King's  repeated  commands,  to  his 
earnest  entreaties  that  they  would  return,  they  answered  that 
it  was  better  to  lose  the  royal  favor  than  endanger  their 
souls.  The  more  ardent  and  resolute  of  Henry's  party  were 
excited  to  the  utmost  fury;  and  they  urged  the  King  to  draw 
at  once  the  sword  committed  him  by  God,  to  chastise  the  re- 
bellious prelates  and  his  other  contumacious  subjects. 


HENRY — HILDEBRAND CANOSSA.  41 

But  Henry  felt  the  ebbing  away  of  his  strength.  Every- 
thing seemed  blasted  with  a  curse  and  turned  against  him. 
His  last  hold  on  the  fears  of  the  Saxons  was  that  he  still  had 
in  his  power  some  of  their  more  formidable  leaders.  He 
issued  orders  to  use  the  utmost  vigilance  for  their  detention. 
Of  these  the  most  dangerous,  and,  as  most  dangerous  most 
hateful  to  Henry,  was  Burchard,  Bishop  of  Halberstadt, 
whom  Henry  determined  to  send  to  Hungary  for  safer  cus- 
tody. On  his  descent  of  the  Danube  a  bold  and  adventurous 
partisan  contrived  the  liberation  of  the  bishop:  Burchard 
found  his  way  to  Saxony.  The  King's  measures  began  to  be 
those  of  a  man  in  utter  despair,  wild,  inconsistent,  passionate. 
He  at  once  changed  his  policy.  He  determined  to  have  the 
merit  of  granting  freedom  to  those  whom  he  could  not  hope 
to  detain  in  prison.  To  the  Bishops  of  Magdeburg,  Merse- 
burg  and  Meissen,  to  Duke  Magnus  and  the  Palatine  Fred- 
erick, he  sent  word  that,  though  by  the  laws  of  the  empire 
he  would  be  justified  in  putting  them  to  death,  yet,  out  of 
respect  for  their  exalted  rank,  he  would  not  merely  release 
them  on  the  promise  of  their  fidelity,  but  would  reward  that 
fidelity  with  the  utmost  liberality.  They  met  hypocrisy  with 
hypocrisy  and  solemnly  swore  fidelity.  They  were  brought  to 
Mentz  to  receive  their  liberation  from  Henry  himself;  but 
he  was  defeated  even  in  this  measure.  A  fray  took  place  in 
the  city  between  the  followers  of  the  Bishop  of  Bamberg  and 
those  of  a  rival  ecclesiastic;  the  prisoners  escaped  in  the 
confusion. 

An  expedition  into  Saxony  through  Bohemia  ended  in 
total  and  disgraceful  failure.  The  King,  instead  of  repelling 
his  rebellious  subjects,  only  by  good  fortune  effected  an  ig- 
nominious retreat,  and  fled  to  Worms. 

Hildebrand,  in  the  mean  time,  neglected  none  of  his  own 
means  of  warfare,  that  warfare  conducted  not  on  the  battle- 
field, but  in  the  hearts  and  souls  of  men,  which  he  felt  himself 
to  command,  and  knew  how  to  sway  to  his  purpose.  Words 
were  his  weapons,  but  words  which  went  to  the  depths  of  the 
human  mind,  and  shook  almost  every  living  man  with  fear. 
There  were  two  classes,  the  churchmen  and  the  vulgar, 
which  comprehended  the  larger  part  of  the  human  race;  to 
both  he  spoke  the  fit  and  persuasive  language.  He  addressed 


42  THE   VOICE  OF    HISTORY. 

a  spiritual  manifesto  to  all  Christendom,  but  more  especially 
to  the  bishops  and  clergy.  He  reverted  to  his  former  af- 
fection for  Henry,  the  love  with  which  even  when  a  deacon 
he  had  warmed  his  youth.  He  had  continued  his  earnest 
admonitions  in  mature  age,  but  Henry  had  only  returned 
evil  for  good,  had  lifted  up  his  heel  against  St.  Peter.  He 
commanded  the  bishops  to  urge  the  contumacious  King  to 
repentance,  but,  "  If  he  prefers  the  devil  to  Christ,  and  ad- 
heres to  his  simoniacal  and  excommunicated  counselors,  the 
bishops,  the  Pope  himself,  must  manfully  discharge  their 
duty.  They  must  enforce  upon  all,  clergy  and  laity,  the  per- 
emptory obligation  of  avoiding  all  intercourse  whatever  with 
the  excommunicated,  all  intercourse  which  was  death  to  the 
souls  of  those  wretched  men  and  to  their  own." 

In  a  letter  to  Herman  of  Metz  he  pressed  this  doctrine 
with  more  relentless  rigor.  "All  who  have  communicated 
with  the  excommunicated  King,  if  King  he  might  be  called, 
by  that  act  have  themselves  incurred  excommunication." 
Such  were  the  doctrines  of  him  who  assumed  to  represent 
the  Prince  of  Peace !  "  But  there  were  those  who  denied 
his  right  to  excommunicate  a  King;  though  their  folly  de- 
served it  not,  he  would  condescend  to  answer."  What,  then, 
was  his  answer?  One  of  the  most  audacious  fictions  of  the 
Decretals;  an  extract  from  a  charge  delivered  by  St.  Peter 
to  Clement  of  Rome;  the  deposition  of  Childebert  by  Pope 
Zacharias ;  certain  sentences  of  Gregory  the  Great  intended  to 
protect  the  estates  of  the  Church  and  anathematizing  all,  even 
kings,  who  should  usurp  them ;  finally,  the  memorable  example 
of  St.  Ambrose  and  Theodosius  the  Great.  "  Why  is  the 
King  alone  excepted  from  that  universal  flock  committed  to 
the  guardianship  of  St.  Peter?  If  the  Pope  may  judge  spir- 
itual persons,  how  much  more  most  secular  persons  give  an 
account  of  their  evil  deeds  before  his  tribunal !  Think  they 
that  the  royal  excels  the  episcopal  dignity? — the  former  the 
invention  of  human  pride,  the  latter  of  divine  holiness;  the 
former  ever  coveting  vainglory,  the  latter  aspiring  after 
heavenly  light.  '  The  glory  of  a  king,'  St.  Ambrose  says, 
'  to  that  of  a  bishop  is  as  lead  to  gold.'  Constantine  the 
Great  took  his  seat  below  the  lowest  bishop,  for  he  knew  that 
God  resisted  the  proud,  but  giveth  grace  to  the  humble." — 


HENRY — HILDEBRAND CANOSSA.  43 

The  humility  of  Hildebrand !  He  then  peremptorily  forbade 
all  bishops  to  presume  to  grant  absolution  to  Henry,  or  to 
enter  into  communion  with  him.  "  The  consecration  of  a 
bishop  who  communicates  with  the  excommunicate  is  an 
execration." 

A  third  letter,  to  the  German  people,  commanded  them, 
if  the  King  did  not  immediately  repent,  dismiss  his  evil  coun- 
selors, acknowledge  that  the  Church  was  not  subject  to  him 
as  a  handmaid,  but  superior  as  a  mistress,  and  abandon  those 
usages  which  have  been  established  in  a  spirit  of  pride  against 
the  liberty  of  the  holy  Church  (the  investiture),  to  proceed 
at  once  to  the  election  of  a  new  sovereign,  a  sovereign 
approved  by  the  Pope.  He  anticipates  the  embarrassment  of 
their  oath  sworn  to  the  Empress  Agnes.  She,  no  doubt,  when 
Henry  shall  be  deposed,  will  give  her  consent ;  the  Pope  would 
absolve  them  from  their  oath. 

The  diet  met  at  Tribur,  near  Darmstadt.  Thither  came 
Rudolph  of  Swabia,  Otho  of  Saxony,  Guelf  of  Bavaria,  the 
two  former  rivals  for  the  throne,  if  it  should  be  vacant  by  tfie 
deposition  of  Henry.  All  the  old  enemies,  all  the  revolted 
friends,  the  bishops  who  had  opposed,  the  bishops  who  had 
consented,  some  even  who  had  advised  his  lofty  demeanor 
towards  the  Pope  appeared  drawn  together  by  their  ambition, 
by  their  desire  of  liberty  or  of  power,  by  their  fears  and  by 
their  hopes  of  gain  or  advancement,  by  their  conscientious 
churchmanship,  or  their  base  resolution  to  be  on  the  stronger 
side.  Already  in  Ulm,  where  the  diet  at  Tribur  had  been 
agreed  upon,  Otho  of  Constance  had  made  his  peace  with  the 
Church;  the  feeble  Siegfried  of  Metz  did  the  same.  The 
Bishops  of  Verdun,  Strassburg,  Liege,  Munster,  and 
Utrecht  obtained  easier  absolution,  some  of  them  having 
from  the  first  disapproved  of  the  King's  proceedings. 

The  legates  of  the  Pope,  Sighard,  Patriarch  of  Aquileia, 
and  Altman,  Bishop  of  Passau,  whose  life  had  been  endan- 
gered in  the  suppression  of  the  married  clergy  with  many 
laymen  of  rank  who  had  embraced  the  monastic  life,  ap- 
peared to  vindicate  the  Pope's  right  to  excommunicate  the 
King,  and  to  sanction  the  election  of  a  new  sovereign. 
These  men  kept  themselves  in  severe  seclusion  from  all 
who,  since  his  excommunication,  had  held  the  slightest  in- 


44  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

tercourse  by  word  or  deed  with  the  King.  They  avoided 
with  equal  abhorrence  all  who  communicated,  even  in  prayer, 
with  married  or  simoniacal  clergy. 

For  seven  days  the  conclave  sat  in  high  and  independent 
and  undisturbed  deliberation  on  the  crimes  of  the  Emperor; 
the  sins  of  his  youth,  by  which  he  had  disgraced  the  maj- 
esty of  the  empire;  the  injuries  which  he  had  inflicted  on 
individuals  and  the  public  weal;  his  devotion  to  base-born 
counselors  and  his  deliberate  hostility  to  the  nobles  of  the 
realm;  his  having  left  the  frontiers  open  to  barbarous  en- 
emies, while  he  was  waging  cruel  war  on  his  subjects;  the 
state  of  the  empire  which  he  had  inherited  flourishing  in 
peace  and  wealth,  but  which  was  now  in  the  most  wretched 
condition,  laid  waste  by  civil  war ;  the  destruction  of  churches 
and  monasteries  and  the  confiscation  of  the  estates  for  the 
maintenance  of  a  lawless  army ;  and  the  building  of  fortresses 
to  reduce  his  free-born  liegemen  to  slavery.  Widows 
and  orphans  were  without  protection,  the  oppressed  and 
calumniated  without  refuge;  the  laws  had  lost  their  author- 
ity, the  manners  their  discipline,  the  Church  her  power,  the 
state  her  dignity.  Thus,  by  the  recklessness  of  one  man, 
things  sacred  and  profane,  divine  and  human,  right  and 
wrong,  were  in  confusion  and  anarchy.  For  these  great 
calamities  one  remedy  alone  remained,  the  election  of  an- 
other king,  who  should  restrain  the  general  license  and 
bear  the  weight  of  the  tottering  world.  The  right  of  the 
Pope  to  separate  the  King  from  the  communion  of  the 
faithful  was  fully  recognized;  even  if  the  Pope  had  passed 
such  sentence  unjustly,  no  Christian  could  communicate 
with  the  interdicted  person  till  reconciled  to  the  Church. 

On  the  other  side  of  the  Rhine,  at  Oppenheim,  the  de- 
serted Henry,  with  a  few  armed  followers,  a  very  few  faith- 
ful nobles,  and  still  fewer  bishops,  kept  his  diminished  and 
still  dwindling  court.  The  Rhine  flowed  between  these 
strangely  contrasted  assemblies.  The  vigor  of  Henry's 
character  seemed  crushed  by  the  universal  defection.  There 
was  no  dignity  in  his  humiliation.  Even  with  his  imperfect 
sense  of  kingly  duty  and  his  notions  of  kingly  power  the 
terrible  truth  of  some  of  these  accusations  may  have  de- 
pressed his  conscience.  Whatever  his  offenses  against  the 


HENRY HILDEBRAND CANOSSA.  45 

Pope,  he  could  not  wonder  at  the  alienation  of  his  subjects. 
He  sank  to  abject  submission.  Day  after  day  came  his 
messengers  offering  concession  on  concession,  the  redress 
of  all  grievances,  the  amendment  of  all  errors,  the  promise 
to  efface  by  his  future  benefits  the  memory  of  all  past  in- 
juries. He  was  ready  to  do  no  public  act  without  con- 
sulting the  great  council  of  the  realm;  he  would  even 
surrender  up  his  power,  place  the  government  in  other 
hands,  if  they  would  leave  him  the  royal  name  and  dignity 
which  could  not  be  taken  away  without  degrading  the  crown 
of  Germany  in  the  eyes  of  men.  For  the  fulfillment  of  these 
terms  he  offered  any  oaths  and  any  hostages  demanded  by 
the  diet. 

The  conclave  coldly  replied  that  they  could  have  no  faith 
in  his  promises;  on  every  favorable  opportunity  he  had 
broken,  like  spiders'  webs,  the  solemn  oaths  which  he  had 
pledged  before  God.  They  had  been  patient  too  long.  Their 
religious  reverence  for  their  allegiance  had  made  them  en- 
dure the  dissolution  of  all  order  in  the  state,  the  loss  of 
peace  in  all  the  churches  of  the  realm,  the  majesty  of  the 
empire  subverted,  the  dignity  of  the  public  morals  de- 
based, the  laws  suspended,  the  ruin  of  justice  and  piety. 
As  long  as  his  temporal  life  was  concerned,  they  had  borne 
all  this  out  of  respect  for  their  oath  of  fealty ;  but  now  that 
he  was  cut  off  by  the  sentence  of  the  Pope  from  the 
Church  of  God,  it  would  be  madness  not  to  seize  the  hour 
of  deliverance.  It  was  their  fixed  determination,  therefore, 
without  delay  to  provide  "  a  man  to  go  before  them  and 
to  wage  the  war  of  the  Lord,"  to  the  destruction  of  his 
pride  who  had  lifted  himself  against  the  justice  and  truth  of 
God  and  the  authority  of  the  Roman  Church. 

The  treacherous  Archbishop  of  Mentz  had  given  orders 
to  collect  all  the  boats  upon  the  Rhine,  in  order  to  attack 
Henry  at  Oppenheim,  to  seize  his  person,  disperse  his 
followers,  and  by  one  decisive  blow  to  end  the  contest.  But 
the  partisans  of  Henry  and  Henry  himself  drew  courage 
from  the  desperate  state  of  their  affairs.  They  boldly 
manned  the  shores,  and  bade  defiance  to  their  enemies.  The 
confederates  shrank  from  the  conflicts;  some  were  not  pre- 
pared for  the  last  extremity  of  arms;  others,  remembering 


46  THE   VOICE  OF    HISTORY. 

Hohenburg,  might  dread  the  issue  of  a  battle  even  at  such 
an  advantage.  But  this  was  a  transient  gleam  of  courage 
and  success;  the  consciousness  of  his  weakness  returned; 
Henry  was  at  the  mercy  of  his  revolted  subjects.  He  had 
but  to  accept  the  hard  terms  which  they  might  be  pleased 
to  impose.  The  terms  were  these:  the  whole  affair  was 
to  be  reserved  for  the  decision  of  the  Supreme  Pontiff,  who 
was  to  hold  a  council  at  Augsburg  on  the  Feast  of  the 
Purification  in  the  ensuing  year.  In  the  meantime,  Henry 
was  to  declare  his  unreserved  subjection  and  submission  to 
the  Pope,  to  dismiss  his  army,  and  live  as  a  private  man  at 
Spires,  with  no  ensigns  of  royalty,  performing  no  act  of 
kingly  authority,  not  presuming  to  enter  a  church,  and  hold- 
ing no  intercourse  with  his  excommunicated  counselors.  He 
was  to  deliver  the  city  of  Worms  to  its  bishop,  to  disband 
the  garrison,  and  to  bind  the  citizens  by  an  oath  to  commit 
no  act  of  insult  or  rebellion  against  their  prelate.  If  the 
King  was  not  absolved  from  the  ban  of  excommunication 
before  the  full  year  expired  from  the  date  of  his  sentence 
(in  the  same  month  of  February  in  which  fell  the  Feast  of  the 
Purification),  he  forfeited  irrevocably  all  right  and  title  to 
the  throne;  his  subjects  were  released  from  their  allegiance. 

Henry  bowed  his  head  before  his  fate.  He  dismissed 
his  counselors ;  the  Bishops  of  Cologne,  Strassburg,  Bam- 
berg,  Basle,  Spires,  Lausanne,  Zeitz,  and  Osnabrueck  were 
left  to  make  their  peace  as  they  could  with  the  Pope.  Even 
his  favorite  counts,  Ulric  of  Cosheim  and  Eberhard  of  Nel- 
lenburg,  were  obliged  to  depart.  He  disbanded  his  troops, 
yielded  up  faithful  Worms  to  its  triumphant  bishop,  retired 
to  Spires,  and  he  who  had  been  born,  as  it  were,  a  King, 
who  could  have  had  no  recollection  of  the  time  in  which 
he  was  not  honored  with  the  name  and  ensigns  of  royalty, 
sank  into  a  private  station. 

But  in  that  intolerable  condition  he  could  not  remain; 
he  must  determine  on  his  future  course,  whatever  might  be 
the  end.  It  was  better  to  confront  the  inexorable  Pope,  to 
undergo,  if  it  must  be  undergone,  the  deep  humiliation  of 
submission  in  Italy,  rather  than  in  the  diet  of  the  empire, 
in  the  face,  amid  the  scorn  and  triumph,  of  his  revolted 
subjects.  He  resolved  to  anticipate  the  journey  of  the  Pope 


HENRY — HILDEBRAND CANOSSA.  47 

to  Germany.  Udo  of  Treves,  his  adversary,  consented  to 
be  his  messenger  to  solicit  the  Pope's  permission  to  make 
his  act  of  submission  in  Rome  rather  than  at  Augsburg. 
Udo's  journey  was  stopped  at  Piacenza.  The  enemies  of 
Henry  had  anticipated  his  message  to  the  Pope.  Hildebrand 
declared  his  intention  to  hold  the  court  at  Augsburg;  how- 
ever difficult  and  inconvenient  the  journey  before  the  8th  of 
January,  he  should  be  at  Mantua. 

Nature  seemed  to  conspire  with  the  Pope  and  with  his 
enemies  against  the  fallen  King.  So  hard  a  winter  had 
not  been  known  for  years;  from  Martinmas  to  the  middle 
of  April  the  Rhine  was  frozen,  so  as  to  be  passable  on  foot. 
The  Dukes  of  Bavaria  and  Carinthia,  the  enemies  of  Henry, 
commanded  and  jealously  watched  the  passes  of  the  Alps. 
With  difficulty  Henry  collected  from  still  diminished  par- 
tisans sufficient  money  to  defray  the  expenses  of  his  journey. 
With  his  wife  and  infant  son,  and  one  faithful  attendant,  he 
left  Spires,  and  turned  aside  into  Burgundy  in  hopes  of  find- 
ing hospitality  and  aid.  He  reached  Besanqon  before  Christ- 
mas Day.  Willianr  of  Burgundy  entertained  him  with 
courtesy.  He  passed  Christxias  in  Besanqon  with  something 
approaching  to  royM  st/Le.  From  Besanqon  he  made  his 
way  to  Geneva,  and  crossed  the  Rhone,  to  the  foot  of 
Mont  Cenis.  There  he  was  met  by  his  mother-in-law  Ade- 
laide, the  powerful  Marchioness  of  Susa,  and  her  son 
Amadeus.  They  received  him  with  an  outward  show  of 
honor ;  but,  taking  advantage  of  his  extreme  necessity,  they  de- 
manded the  cession  of  five  rich  bishoprics  as  the  price  of  his 
free  passage  through  their  territories.  This  demand  might 
seem  an  insidious  endeavor  to  commit  him  still  further  with 
the  Pope  by  forcing  him  to  exercise  or  transfer  in  a  simoni- 
acal  manner  the  contested  power  of  investiture.  Henry  was 
glad  to  extricate  himself  by  the  sacrifice  of  a  rich  district 
which  he  possessed  in  Burgundy. 

But  the  Alps  were  still  between  him  and  Italy.  The  pas- 
sage of  Mont  Cenis,  notwithstanding  the  hardier  habits  of 
the  time,  was  always  a  work  of  peril  and  difficulty;  the 
unusual  severity  of  the  winter  made  it  almost  desperate. 
Vast  quantities  of  snow  had  fallen;  the  slippery  surface, 
where  it  had  hardened,  was  not  strong  enough  to  bear;  the 


48  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

ascent  seemed  impracticable.  But  the  fatal  day  was  hasten- 
ing on;  the  King  must  reach  Italy,  or  forfeit  his  crown  for- 
ever. At  a  large  cost  they  hired  some  of  the  mountaineers, 
well  acquainted  with  the  paths,  to  go  before  and  cut  some- 
thing like  a  road  through  the  snow  for  the  King  and  his 
few  followers.  So  they  reached  with  great  labor  the  sum- 
mit of  the  path.  The  descent  seemed  impossible ;  it  looked 
like  a  vast  precipice,  smooth  and  almost  sheer.  But  the 
danger  must  be  overcome.  Some  crept  down  on  their  hands 
and  knees;  some  clung  to  the  shoulders  of  the  guide,  and 
so  sliding  and  at  times  rolling  down  the  steeper  declivities, 
reached  the  bottom  without  serious  accident.  The  queen  and 
her  infant  son  were  drawn  down  in  the  skins  of  oxen,  as 
in  sledges.  Some  of  the  horses  were  lowered  by  various 
contrivances,  some  with  their  feet  tied  allowed  to  roll  from 
ledge  to  ledge.  Many  were  killed,  many  maimed;  few 
reached  the  plain  in  a  serviceable  state. 

No  sooner  was  the  King's  unexpected  arrival  made  known 
in  Italy  than  the  princes  and  the  bishops  assembled  in  great 
numbers  and  received  him  with  the  highest  honors ;  in  a  few 
days  he  found  himself  at  the  head  of  a  formidable  army. 
The  great  cause  of  his  popularity  with  so  many  of  the 
Lombard  nobility  and  the  prelates  was  the  notion  that  he 
had  crossed  the  Alps  to  depose  the  Pope.  All,  and  they 
were  neither  few  and  without  power,  who  were  excom- 
municated by  Hildebrand,  looked  eagerly  for  vengeance. 
But  Henry  could  not  pause  to  plunge  into  this  new  warfare 
where  even  in  Lombardy  he  would  have  encountered  half 
the  magnates  and  people.  He  could  not  imperil  the  throne 
of  Germany.  He  must  obtain  the  absolution  from  his  ex- 
communicator  before  the  fatal  25th  of  February. 

The  Pope,  meantime,  accompanied  by  his  powerful  pro- 
tectress, Matilda  of  Tuscany,  and  by  the  Bishop  of  Vercelli, 
had  crossed  the  Apennines  on  his  way  to  Mantua.  The 
news  of  Henry's  descent  into  Italy  arrested  his  march.  Un- 
certain whether  he  came  as  a  humble  suppliant  or  at  the 
head  of  an  army  (Gregory  well  knew  the  state  of  Lombardy), 
he  immediately  turned  aside,  and  took  up  his  abode  in  Ca- 
nossa,  a  strong  fortress  belonging  to  Matilda. 

To  Canossa  first  came  in  trembling  haste  many  of  the 


HENRY — HILDEBRAND CANOSSA.  49 

nobles  and  prelates  who  had  been  included  under  the  ban 
of  excommunication,  and  whom  Henry  had  been  forced  to 
dismiss  from  his  service.  Most  of  them  had  been  so  for- 
tunate as  to  elude  the  guard  set  to  watch  the  passes  of  the 
Alps.  Dietrich,  Bishop  of  Verdun,  one  of  the  most  faith- 
ful and  irreproachable  of  Henry's  partisans  (he  had  not 
concurred  in  his  more  violent  proceedings),  had  been  seized 
by  Adelbert,  Count  of  Calw,  plundered,  imprisoned,  forced 
to  promise  a  large  ransom,  and  not  to  revenge  this  cruel 
outrage.  Rupert  of  Bamberg,  still  more  odious  to  the  ad- 
verse party,  was  taken  by  Guelf,  Duke  of  Bavaria,  stripped 
of  all  his  treasures,  even  to  his  pontifical  robes,  and  kept  in 
close  captivity;  neither  his  own  entreaties,  nor  those  of  his 
friends,  could  obtain  his  liberation.  With  naked  feet,  and  in 
the  garb  of  penitents,  the  rest  appeared  before  the  Pope.  To 
them  Gregory  tempered  his  severity  by  mildness.  He  would 
not  refuse  absolution  to  those  who  confessed  and  lamented 
their  sins;  but  they  must  be  purified  as  by  fire,  lest  by  too 
great  facility  of  pardon  the  atrocious  and  violent  crimes  of 
which  they  had  been  guilty  to  the  Apostolic  See  should  be 
regarded  as  a  light  sin,  or  as  no  sin  at  all.  The  bishops 
were  shut  up  in  separate  and  solitary  cells,  with  but  a 
scanty  supply  of  food  till  evening.  The  penitence  of  the 
laity  was  apportioned  with  regard  to  the  age  and  their 
strength.  After  this  ordeal  of  some  days,  they  were  called 
before  the  Pope  and  received  absolution,  with  a  mild  re- 
buke, and  repeated  injunctions  to  hold  no  communion  with 
their  master  till  he  should  be  reconciled  to  the  Holy  See. 

The  lenity  of  the  Pope  to  his  adherents  may  have  de- 
cided the  wavering  mind  of  Henry.  It  may  have  been  de- 
signed to  heighten  by  contrast  the  haughty  and  inexorable 
proceedings  towards  the  King.  Hildebrand  would  be  content 
with  the  moderate  chastisement  of  the  inferiors,  from  the 
King  he  would  exact  the  most  degrading  humiliation.  Henry 
first  obtained  an  interview  with  Matilda  of  Tuscany.  He 
sent  her  to  the  Pope  loaded  with  prayers  and  promises.  She 
was  accompanied  by  Adelaide  of  Susa,  the  Marquis  Azzo,  and 
Hugh,  the  Abbot  of  Clugny,  who  was  supposed  to  possess 
great  influence  over  the  mind  of  Gregory.  He  entreated  the 
Pope  not  too  rashly  to  credit  the  jealous  and  hostile  charges 
4 


50  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

of  the  German  princes,  but  to  absolve  the  King  at  once  from 
his  excommunication.  The  Pope  coldly  replied  that  it  was 
inconsistent  with  the  ecclesiastical  laws  to  pass  judgment, 
except  in  the  presence  of  the  accusers ;  "  let  him  appear  on 
the  appointed  day  at  Augsburg,  and  he  shall  receive  rigid 
and  impartial  justice."  The  ambassadors  of  Henry  urged  that 
the  King  by  no  means  declined,  but  humbly  submitted  to, 
the  judgment  of  the  Pope,  but  in  the  mean  time  earnestly 
desired  to  be  released  from  the  excommunication.  The 
possession  of  his  crown  depended  upon  his  immediate  absolu- 
tion; he  would  undergo  any  penance,  and  he  prepared  to  an- 
swer hereafter  before  the  Pope  to  any  charges  advanced 
against  him.  The  implacable  Pope  would  yield  no  step  of 
his  vantage  ground.  He  might,  indeed,  dread  the  versatil- 
ity of  Henry's  character,  and  his  ready  assent  to  the  advice 
of  flattering  and  desperate  counselors.  "  If  he  be  truly 
penitent,  let  him  place  his  crown  and  all  the  ensigns  of 
royalty  in  my  hands,  and  openly  confess  himself  unworthy 
of  the  royal  name  and  dignity."  This  demand  seemed  too 
harsh  even  to  the  ardent  admirers  of  the  Pope;  they  en- 
treated him  to  mitigate  the  rigor  of  the  sentence,  "  not  to  break 
the  bruised  reed."  The  Pope  gave  a  vague  assent  to  their 
representations. 

On  a  dreary  winter  morning,  with  the  ground  deep  in 
snow,  the  King,  the  heir  of  a  long  line  of  emperors,  was  per- 
mitted to  enter  within  the  two  outer  of  the  three  walls  which 
girded  to  castle  of  Canossa.  He  had  laid  aside  every  mark 
of  royalty  or  of  distinguished  station ;  he  was  clad  only  in  the 
thin  white  linen  dress  of  the  penitent,  and  there,  fasting,  he 
awaited  in  humble  patience,  the  pleasure  of  the  Pope.  But 
the  gates  did  not  unclose.  A  second  day  .he  stood,  cold, 
hungry,  and  mocked  by  a  vain  hope.  And  yet  a  third  day 
dragged  on  from  morning  to  evening  over  the  unsheltered 
head  of  the  discrowned  king.  Every  heart  was  moved  ex- 
cept that  of  the  representative  of  Jesus  Christ.  Even  in  the 
presence  of  Gregory  there  were  low,  deep  murmurs  against 
his  unapostolic  pride  and  inhumanity.  The  patience  of  Henry 
could  endure  no  more;  he  took  refuge  in  an  adjacent  chapel  of 
St.  Nicholas  to  implore,  and  with  tears,  once  again,  the  in- 
tercession of  the  aged  Abbot  of  Clugny.  Matilda  was  pres- 


HENRY HILDEBRAND CANOSSA.  51 

ent;  her  womanly  heart  was  melted;  she  joined  with  Henry 
in  his  supplication  to  the  abbot.  "  Thou  alone  canst  ac- 
complish this,"  said  the  Abbot  to  the  Countess.  Henry  fell 
on  his  knees,  and  in  a  passion  of  grief  entreated  her  merci- 
ful interference.  To  female  entreaties  and  influence  Gregory 
at  length  yielded  an  ungracious  permission  for  the  King  to 
approach  his  presence.  With  bare  feet,  still  in  the  garb  of 
penitence,  stood  the  King,  a  man  of  singularly  tall  and  noble 
person,  with  a  countenance  accustomed  to  flash  command 
and  terror  upon  his  adversaries,  before  the  Pope,  a  gray- 
haired  man,  bowed  with  years,  of  small,  unimposing  stature. 

The  terms  exacted  from  Henry,  who  was  far  too  deeply 
humiliated  to  dispute  anything,  had  no  redeeming  touch  of 
gentleness  or  compassion.  He  was  to  appear  in  the  place, 
and  at  the  time  which  the  Pope  should  name,  to  answer  the 
charges  of  his  subjects  before  the  Pope  himself,  if  it  should 
please  him  to  preside  in  person  at  his  trial.  If  he  should 
repel  these  charges,  he  was  to  receive  his  kingdom  back 
from  the  hands  of  the  Pope.  If  found  guilty,  he  was  peace- 
ably to  resign  his  kingdom  and  pledge  himself  never  to  at- 
tempt to  seek  revenge  for  his  disposition.  Till  that  time 
he  was  to  assume  none  of  the  ensigns  of  royalty,  perform  no 
public  act,  appropriate  no  part  of  the  royal  revenue  which 
was  not  necessary  for  the  maintenance  of  himself  and  of 
his  attendants;  all  his  subjects  were  to  be  held  released 
from  their  oath  of  allegiance;  he  was  to  banish  forever  from 
his  court  Rupert,  Bishop  of  Bamberg,  and  Ulric,  Count  of 
Cosheim,  with  his  other  evil  advisers.  If  he  should  recover 
his  kingdom,  he  must  rule  henceforward  according  to  the 
council  of  the  Pope,  and  correct  whatever  was  contrary  to 
the  ecclesiastical  laws.  On  these  conditions  the  Pope  con- 
descended to  grant  absolution,  with  the  further  provision 
that,  in  case  of  any  prevarication  on  the  part  of  the  King 
on  any  of  these  articles,  the  absolution  was  null  and  void, 
and  in  that  case  the  princes  of  the  empire  were  released  from 
all  their  oaths,  and  might  immediately  proceed  to  the  election 
of  another  King. 

The  oath  of  Henry  was  demanded  to  these  conditions,  to 
his  appearance  before  the  tribunal  of  the  Pope,  and  to  the 
safe-conduct  of  the  Pope  if  he  should  be  pleased  to  cross  the 


62  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

Alps.  But  the  King's  oath  was  not  deemed  sufficient;  who 
would  be  his  compurgators  ?  The  Abbot  of  Clugny  declined, 
as  taking  such  an  oath  was  inconsistent  with  his  monastic 
vows.  At  length  the  Archbishop  of  Bremen,  the  Bishops 
of  Vercelli,  Osnabrueck,  and  Zeitz,  the  Marquis  Azzo  and 
others  of  the  princes  present,  ventured  to  swear  on  the  holy 
reliques  to  the  King's  faithful  fulfillment  of  all  these  hard 
conditions. 

But  even  yet  the  unforgiving  Hildebrand  had  not  forced 
the  King  to  drink  the  dregs  of  humiliation.  He  had  de- 
graded Henry  before  men,  he  would  degrade  him  in  the 
presence  of  God;  he  had  exalted  himself  to  the  summit  of 
earthly  power,  he  would  appeal  to  Heaven  to  ratify  and 
sanction  this  assumption  of  unapproachable  superiority. 

After  the  absolution  had  been  granted  in  due  form,  the 
Pope  proceeded  to  celebrate  the  awful  mystery  of  the  Eu- 
charist. He  called  the  King  towards  the  altar,  he  lifted 
in  his  hands  the  consecrated  host,  and  spoke  these  words: 
"  I  have  been  accused  by  thee  and  by  thy  partisans  of  having 
usurped  the  Apostolic  See  by  simoniacal  practices, — of  hav- 
ing been  guilty,  both  before  and  after  my  elevation  to  the 
Episcopate,  of  crimes  which  would  disqualify  me  for  my 
sacred  office.  I  might  justify  myself  by  proof,  and  by  wit- 
ness of  those  who  have  known  me  from  my  youth,  whose 
suffrages  have  raised  me  to  the  Apostolic  See.  But  to  re- 
move every  shadow  of  suspicion,  I  appeal  from  human  testi- 
mony to  divine.  Behold  the  Lord's  body;  be  this  the  test 
of  my  innocence.  May  God  acquit  me  by  His  judgment  this 
day  of  the  crimes  with  which  I  am  charged;  if  guilty, 
strike  me  dead  at  once."  He  then  took  and  ate  the  con- 
secrated wafer,  a  pause  ensued;  he  stood  unscathed  in  calm 
assurance.  A  sudden  burst  of  admiration  thrilled  the  whole 
congregation.  When  silence  was  restored,  he  addressed  the 
King :  "  Do  thou,  my  son,  as  I  have  done !  The  princes  of 
the  German  Empire  have  accused  thee  of  crimes  heinous 
and  capital,  such  as  in  justice  should  exclude  thee  not  only 
from  the  administration  of  public  affairs,  but  from  the  com- 
munion of  the  church,  and  all  in  the  course  with  the  faith- 
ful to  thy  dying  day.  They  eagerly  demand  a  solemn  trial. 
But  human  decisions  are  liable  to  error ;  falsehood,  dressed 


HENRY HILDEBRAND CANOSSA.  53 

out  in  eloquence,  enslaves  the  judgment;  truth,  without  this 
artificial  aid,  meets  with  contempt.  As  thou  hast  implored 
my  protection,  act  according  to  my  counsel.  If  thou  art 
conscious  of  thy  innocence,  and  assured  that  the  accusations 
against  thee  are  false,  by  this  short  course,  free  the  Church 
of  God  from  scandal,  thyself  from  long  and  doubtful  trial. 
Take  thou,  too,  the  body  of  the  Lord,  and  if  God  avouches 
thy  innocence,  thou  stoppest  forever  the  mouths  of  thy  ac- 
cusers. I  shall  become  at  once  the  advocate  of  thy  cause, 
the  asserter  of  thy  guiltlessness,  thy  nobles  will  be  recon- 
ciled to  thee,  thy  kingdom  restored,  the  fierce  tempest  of 
civil  war  which  destroys  thy  empire  will  be  allayed  for- 
ever." 

Was  this  a  sudden  impulse  or  a  premeditated  plan  of 
Gregory?  Was  it  but  a  blind  determination  to  push  his 
triumph  to  the  utmost,  or  was  it  sincere  confidence  in  the 
justice  and  certainty  of  this  extraordinary  ordeal?  Had 
he  fully  contemplated  the  dreadful  alternative  which  he  of- 
fered to  the  King — either  boldly  to  deny  the  truth,  to  the 
smallest  point,  of  charges  not  like  those  against  himself, 
clear  and  specific,  but  vague,  undefined,  including  his  whole 
life?  In  that  case,  did  he  not  discern  the  incredible  wicked- 
ness of  thus  tempting  the  King,  in  his  stupor  and  confusion, 
to  reckless  perjury?  Or  should  the  King  so  adjure,  prostrate 
himself  at  the  feet  of  the  Pope,  and  by  acknowledging  his 
guilt,  deprive  himself  at  once  and  forever  of  his  crown? 
Or  did  he  suppose  that  God  would  indeed  interpose,  and  as 
tradition  reported  of  Lothair  of  Lorraine,  who  had  been 
put  to  the  same  test  by  Hadrian  II,  and  met  with  a  speedy 
and  miserable  death,  so  would  the  perjured  Henry,  by  a  still 
more  striking  example,  rivet  forever  the  bonds  of  ecclesi- 
astical power  upon  the  hearts  of  kings? 

Henry,  in  his  amazement,  hesitated,  and  stood  in  visible 
agitation.  He  then  retired  to  a  short  distance  to  consult  with 
his  few  followers  how  he  should  escape  this  terrible  "judg- 
ment of  God."  He  then  summoned  his  courage,  and  declared 
that  he  must  first  obtain  the  opinion  of  those  princes  who 
had  adhered  to  his  cause;  that  though  this  trial  might  be 
satisfactory  to  the  few  present,  it  would  not  have  any  effect 
on  the  obstinate  incredulity  of  his  absent  enemies.  He  ad- 


54  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

jured  the  Pope  to  reserve  the  whole  question  for  a  general 
council,  in  whose  equitable  decision  he  would  acquiesce. 
The  Pope  hardly  consented  to  this  request;  but  as  if  con- 
scious that  he  had  himself  gone  too  far,  he  now  condescended 
to  receive  the  King  at  a  banquet,  treated  him  with  courtesy, 
and  gave  him  much  grave  advice. 

Gregory  had  sent,  in  the  mean  time,  Eppo,  Bishop  of 
Zeitz,  to  announce  to  the  Italians  the  absolution  of  the  King. 
But  the  Lombards  had  come  not  to  see  the  King,  but  the 
Pope  humbled.  When  they  heard  the  history  of  Henry's  de- 
basement, they  broke  out  into  furious  indignation,  glared  on 
the  bishop  with  fierce  and  menacing  looks,  and  loaded  him 
with  insulting  and  contumelious  language.  They  openly 
avowed  their  contempt  for  the  Pope's  excommunication, 
denied  his  right  to  the  papacy,  and  renewed  all  the  op- 
probrious accusations  of  adultery  and  other  capital  offenses 
against  the  pontiff.  Of  the  King  they  spoke  with  contemp- 
tuous bitterness;  he  had  dishonored  the  royal  dignity  by  his 
submission  to  a  man,  a  heretic  and  loaded  with  infamy;  they 
had  followed  him  as  the  avenger  of  their  wrongs,  as  the  as- 
serter  of  justice,  and  of  ecclesiastical  law;  he  had  deserted 
them  in  the  hour  of  trial,  and  made  his  own  peace  by  a  base 
and  cowardly  reconciliation.  Their  angry  discontent  spread 
through  the  camp.  There  was  a  general  cry  that  the  King 
should  be  compelled  to  abdicate  the  throne  of  which  he  was 
so  unworthy,  and  that  his  son  Conrad  should  be  instantly 
proclaimed.  With  him  at  their  head  they  would  march  to 
Rome,  elect  another  pope,  who  should  crown  the  infant  em- 
peror, and  annul  all  the  acts  of  this  apostate  pontiff. 

Henry  sunk  at  heart,  and  perhaps  now  imagining  that  he 
had  underrated  his  own  power,  did  not  dare  to  confront  the 
tumult.  He  sent  out  some  of  the  nobles  around  him  to  as- 
suage the  dissatisfaction,  to  explain  the  stern  necessity  to 
which  he  had  bowed,  and  to  assure  them  that  hereafter  he 
would  apply  all  his  thoughts  to  the  assertion  of  their  rights. 
The  tumult  was  stilled;  but  many  of  the  more  powerful 
Lombards  retired  in  disgust  to  their  stronghold.  The  rest 
received  him  as  he  came  forth  from  that  fatal  Canossa  with 
cold  and  averted  looks.  No  one  approached  him,  but  they 
stood  apart  in  small  knots,  discussing,  in  hardly  suppressed 


THE    WESTERN    SCHISM.  55 

murmurs,   his   weakness   and  his  disgrace.     He   retired   in 
shame  and  sorrow  to  Reggio. 

The  triumph  of  sacerdotal  Christianity  in  the  humiliation 
of  the  temporal  power  was  complete,  but  it  was  premature. 
Hildebrand,  like  other  conquerors,  must  leave  the  fruits  of 
his  victory  to  later  times.  He  had  established  in  the  face  of 
Europe  the  great  principle,  the  papal  power  of  judging  kings. 
Henry  himself  seemed  at  first  stunned  by  the  suddenness, 
the  force  of  the  blow;  Christendom  had  in  like  manner  been 
taken  by  surprise.  But  the  pause  of  awe  and  reverence  was 
but  brief  and  transitory;  a  strong  recoil  was  inevitable;  the 
elements  of  resistance  were  powerful  and  widely  spread.  The 
common  hatred  of  Hildebrand  brought  together  again  all 
who,  from  lower  or  from  loftier  motives,  abhorred  his 
tyranny:  the  Germans,  who  resented  the  debasement  of  the 
empire ;  the  Italians,  who  dreaded  the  ascendency  of  the  house 
of  Tuscany;  the  clergy,  who,  more  or  less  conscientiously, 
were  averse  to  the  monastic  rigor  of  Hildebrand, — those  who 
had  felt  or  who  dreaded  his  censures. 


The  Western  Schism. 

Edward  Gibbon's  Decline  and  Fall  of  the  Roman  Empire, 

Pope  Gregory  XI  had  given  way  to  the  importunity  of  the 
Romans  and  had  returned  to  Rome,  arriving  there  in  January, 

1377,  and  taking  up  his  residence  in  the  Vatican.     But  in  the 
spring  he  left  Rome  again  for  Anagni,  where  he  died  in  June  of 

1378.  Upon  his  death  there  occurred  that  strange  and  humilia- 
ting spectacle  of  several  popes,  all  claiming  to  be  rightly  elected 
by  the   faithful  under  the  guidance  of  the   Holy   Ghost,   each 
with  a  part  of  Christendom  adhering  to  him  and  defending  his 
claims,  and  yet,  no  one  with  the  "infallible  wisdom"  to  decide 
which  one  was  the  "  viceregent "  of   Christ,  or  whether  there 
were,   or  could  be,  several   of   these   "  viceregents."^    Of   these 
popes,  John   XXIII  was  convicted  of  incest  with  his  brother's 
wife  and  of  fornication  with  300  nuns,  and  was  deposed  by  the 
council   of   Constance ;    Boniface   IX   sold   indulgences   and  be- 
came   notorious    for    his    avarice.    But    even    before    this,    the 
monstrosity    of    several    "  heads "    upon    this    one  church  had 
appeared,  for  in  1045  A.  D.  there  were  in  Rome  three  reigning 
popes  at  the  same  time,  who  divided  the  revenues  and  expended 
them  in  excesses.     How  can  Roman  Catholics  claim  unity  for 
their  church  in  the  face  of  this  disgraceful  division? 


56  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

Gregory  XI  did  not  survive  above  fourteen  months  his 
return  to  the  Vatican ;  and  his  decease  was  followed  by  the 
great  Schism  of  the  West  which  distracted  the  Latin  Church 
above  forty  years.  The  Sacred  College  was  then  composed 
of  twenty-two  cardinals.  Six  of  these  had  remained  at 
Avignon;  eleven  Frenchmen,  one  Spaniard,  and  four  Italians 
entered  the  conclave  in  the  usual  form.  Their  choice  was 
not  yet  limited  to  the  purple;  and  their  unanimous  votes 
acquiesced  in  the  Archbishop  of  Bari,  a  subject  of  Naples, 
conspicuous  for  his  zeal  and  learning,  who  ascended  the 
throne  of  St.  Peter  under  the  name  of  Urban  VI.  The 
epistle  of  the  Sacred  College  affirms  his  free  and  regular 
election,  which  had  been  inspired,  as  usual,  by  the  Holy 
Ghost.  He  was  adored,  invested,  and  crowned  with  the 
customary  rites;  his  temporal  authority  was  obeyed  at  Rome 
and  Avignon,  and  his  ecclesiastical  supremacy  was  ac- 
knowledged in  the  Latin  world.  During  several  weeks  the 
cardinals  attended  their  new  master  with  the  fairest  pro- 
fessions of  attachment  and  loyalty,  till  the  summer  heat  per- 
mitted a  decent  escape  from  the  city.  But  as  soon  as  they 
were  united  at  Anagni  and  Fundi,  in  a  place  of  security,  they 
cast  aside  the  mask,  accused  their  own  falsehood  and  hy- 
pocrisy, excommunicated  the  apostate  and  antichrist  at  Rome, 
and  proceeded  to  a  new  election  of  Robert  of  Geneva,  Clement 
VII,  whom  they  announced  to  the  nations  as  the  true  and 
rightful  vicar  of  Christ.  Their  first  choice,  an  involuntary 
and  illegal  act,  was  annulled  by  the  fear  of  death  and  the 
menaces  of  the  Romans;  and  their  complaint  is  justified  by 
the  strong  evidence  of  probability  and  fact.  The  twelve 
French  cardinals,  above  two-thirds  of  the  votes,  were  masters 
of  the  election;  and  whatever  might  be  their  provincial  jeal- 
ousies, it  cannot  fairly  be  presumed  that  they  would  have 
sacrificed  their  right  and  interest  to  a  foreign  candidate,  who 
would  never  restore  them  to  their  native  country.  In  the 
various,  and  often  inconsistent,  narratives,  the  shades  of 
popular  violence  are  more  darkly  or  faintly  colored;  but  the 
licentiousness  of  the  seditious  Romans  was  inflamed  by  a  sense 
of  their  privileges  and  the  danger  of  a  second  emigration. 
The  conclave  was  intimidated  by  the  shouts  and  encompassed 
by  the  arms  of  thirty  thousand  rebels;  the  bells  of  the  Cap- 


THE    WESTERN    SCHISM.  57 

itol  and  St.  Peter's  rang  an  alarm :  "  Death  or  an  Italian 
pope !  "  was  the  universal  cry.  The  same  threat  was  repeated 
by  the  twelve  bannerets  or  chiefs  of  the  quarters,  in  the 
form  of  charitable  advice;  some  preparations  were  made  for 
burning  the  obstinate  cardinals;  and  had  they  chosen  a 
Transalpine  subject,  it  is  probable  they  would  never  have 
departed  alive  from  the  Vatican.  The  same  constraint  im- 
posed the  necessity  of  dissembling  in  the  eyes  of  Rome  and  of 
the  world.  The  pride  and  cruelty  of  Urban  presented  a  more 
inevitable  danger;  and  they  soon  discovered  the  features  of 
the  tyrant  who  could  walk  in  the  garden  and  recite  his 
breviary  while  he  heard  from  an  adjacent  chamber  six 
cardinals  groaning  on  the  rack.  His  inflexible  zeal,  which 
loudly  censured  their  luxury  and  vice,  would  have  attached 
them  to  the  stations  and  duties  of  their  parishes  at  Rome; 
and  had  he  not  fatally  delayed  a  new  promotion,  the  French 
cardinals  would  have  been  reduced  to  a  helpless  minority  in 
the  Sacred  College.  For  these  reasons,  and  in  the  hope  of 
repassing  the  Alps,  they  rashly  violated  the  peace  and 
unity  of  the  Church;  and  the  merits  of  their  double  choice 
are  yet  agitated  in  the  Catholic  schools.  The  vanity,  rather 
than  the  interest,  of  the  nation  determined  the  court  and 
clergy  of  France,  The  states  of  Savoy,  Sicily,  Cyprus,  Ar- 
agon,  Castile,  Navarre,  and  Scotland  were  inclined  by  their 
example  and  authority  to  the  obedience  of  Clement  VII  and, 
after  his  decease,  of  Benedict  XIII  Rome  and  the  principal 
states  of  Italy,  Germany,  Portugal,  England,  the  Low  Coun- 
tries, and  the  kingdoms  of  the  north  adhered  to  the  prior 
election  of  Urban  VI,  who  was  succeeded  by  Boniface  IX, 
Innocent  VII,  and  Gregory  XII. 

From  the  banks  of  the  Tiber  and  the  Rhone  the  hostile 
pontiffs  encountered  each  other  with  the  pen  and  the  sworcL 
The  civil  and  ecclesiastical  order  of  society  was  disturbed; 
and  the  Romans  had  their  full  share  of  the  mischiefs  of  which 
they  may  be  arraigned  as  the  primary  authors.  They  had 
vainly  flattered  themselves  with  the  hope  of  restoring  the 
seat  of  the  ecclesiastical  monarchy,  and  of  relieving  their 
poverty  with  the  tributes  and  offerings  of  the  nations;  but 
the  separation  of  France  and  Spain  diverted  the  stream  of 
lucrative  devotion;  nor  could  the  loss  be  compensated  by  the 


58  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

two  jubilees  which  were  crowded  into  the  space  of  ten  years. 
By  the  avocations  of  the  schism,  by  foreign  arms  and  popular 
tumults,  Urban  VI  and  his  three  successors  were  often  com- 
pelled to  interrupt  their  residence  in  the  Vatican.  The  Co- 
lonna  and  the  Ursini  still  exercised  their  deadly  feuds.  The 
bannerets  of  Rome  asserted  and  abused  the  privileges  of  a  re- 
public. The  vicars  of  Christ,  who  had  levied  a  military  force, 
chastised  their  rebellion  with  the  gibbet,  the  sword,  and  the 
dagger;  and,  in  a  friendly  conference,  eleven  deputies  of  the 
people  were  perfidiously  murdered  and  cast  into  the  street. 
Since  the  invasion  of  Robert  the  Norman,  the  Romans  had 
pursued  their  domestic  quarrels  without  the  dangerous  in- 
terposition of  a  stranger.  But  in  the  disorders  of  the  schism, 
an  aspiring  neighbor,  Ladislaus,  King  of  Naples,  alternately 
supported  and  betrayed  the  Pope  and  the  people.  By  the 
former  he  was  declared  gonfalonier,  or  general,  of  the  Church, 
while  the  latter  submitted  to  his  choice  the  nomination  of 
their  magistrates.  Besieging  Rome  by  land  and  water,  he 
thrice  entered  the  capital  as  a  barbarian  conqueror,  profaned 
the  altars,  violated  the  virgins,  pillaged  the  merchants,  per- 
formed his  devotions  at  St.  Peter's,  and  left  a  garrison  in  the 
castle  of  St.  Angelo.  His  arms  were  sometimes  unfortunate, 
and  to  a  delay  of  three  days  he  was  indebted  for  his  life  and 
crown.  But  Ladislaus  triumphed  in  his  turn,  and  it  was  only 
his  premature  death  that  could  save  the  metropolis  and  the 
ecclesiastical  state  from  the  ambitious  conqueror,  who  had  as- 
sumed the  title,  or  at  least  the  powers,  of  the  King  of  Rome. 
I  have  not  undertaken  the  ecclesiastical  history  of  the 
schism;  but  Rome,  the  object  of  these  last  chapters,  is 
deeply  interested  in  the  disputed  succession  of  her  sovereigns. 
The  first  counsels  for  the  peace  and  union  of  Christendom 
arose  from  the  University  of  Paris,  from  the  faculty  of  the 
Sorbonne,  whose  doctors  were  esteemed,  at  least  in  the 
Gallican  church,  as  the  most  consummate  masters  of  theo- 
logical science.  Prudently  waiving  all  invidious  inquiry  into 
the  origin  and  merits  of  the  dispute,  they  proposed  as  a  heal- 
ing measure  that  the  two  pretenders  of  Rome  and  Avignon 
should  abdicate  at  the  same  time,  after  qualifying  the  car- 
dinals of  the  adverse  factions  to  join  in  a  legitimate  election ; 
and  that  the  nations  should  subtract  their  obedience,  if  either 


THE   WESTERN    SCHISM.  59 

of  the  competitors  should  prefer  his  own  interests  to  that  of 
the  public.  At  each  vacancy  these  physicians  of  the  Church 
deprecated  the  mischiefs  of  a  hasty  choice;  but  the  policy 
of  the  conclave  and  the  ambition  of  its  members  were  deaf 
to  reason  and  entreaties ;  and  whatsoever  promises  were  made, 
the  Pope  could  never  be  bound  by  the  oaths  of  the  cardinal. 
During  fifteen  years  the  pacific  designs  of  the  university  were 
eluded  by  the  arts  of  the  rival  pontiffs,  the  scruples  or  pas- 
sions of  their  adherents,  and  the  vicissitudes  of  French 
factions  that  ruled  the  insanity  of  Charles  VI.  At  length  a 
vigorous  resolution  was  embraced;  and  a  solemn  embassy  of 
the  titular  patriarch  of  Alexandria,  two  archbishops,  five 
bishops,  five  abbots,  three  knights,  and  twenty  doctors  was 
sent  to  the  courts  of  Avignon  and  Rome  to  require  in  the  name 
of  the  Church  and  King  the  abdication  of  the  two  pretenders, 
of  Peter  de  Luna,  who  styled  himself  Benedict  XIII,  and  of 
Angelo  Carrario,  who  assumed  the  name  of  Gregory  XII. 
For  the  ancient  honor  of  Rome  and  the  success  of  their  com- 
mission, the  ambassadors  solicited  a  conference  with  the  mag- 
istrates of  the  city,  whom  they  gratified  by  a  positive  declara- 
tion that  the  most  Christian  King  did  not  entertain  a  wish 
of  transporting  the  Holy  See  from  the  Vatican,  which  he 
considered  as  the  genuine  and  proper  seat  of  the  successor 
of  St.  Peter.  In  the  name  of  the  senate  and  people,  an  elo- 
quent Roman  asserted  their  desire  to  cooperate  in  the  union 
of  the  Church,  deplored  the  temporal  and  spiritual  calamities 
of  the  long  schism,  and  requested  the  protection  of  France 
against  the  arms  of  the  King  of  Naples.  The  answers  of 
Benedict  and  Gregory  were  alike  edifying  and  alike  de- 
ceitful; and,  in  evading  the  demand  of  their  abdication, 
the  two  rivals  were  animated  by  a  common  spirit.  They 
agreed  on  the  necessity  of  a  previous  interview;  but  the 
time,  the  place,  and  the  manner  could  never  be  ascer- 
tained by  mutual  consent.  "  If  the  one  advances,"  says  a 
servant  of  Gregory,  "  the  other  retreats ;  the  one  appears  to 
be  an  animal  fearful  of  the  land,  the  other  a  creature  appre- 
hensive of  the  water.  And  thus,  for  a  short  remnant  of 
life  and  power,  will  these  aged  priests  endanger  the  peace  and 
salvation  of  the  Christian  world." 

The  Christian  world   was  at  length  provoked   by  their 
obstinacy  and  fraud.    They  were  deserted  by  their  cardinals, 


60  THE  VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

who  embraced  each  other  as  friends  and  colleagues ;  and  their 
revolt  was  supported  by  a  numerous  assembly  of  prelates  and 
ambassadors.  With  equal  justice  the  Council  of  Pisa  de- 
posed the  popes  of  Rome  and  Avignon.  The  conclave  was 
unanimous  in  the  choice  of  Alexander  V,  and  his  vacant  seat 
was  soon  filled  by  a  similar  election  of  John  XXIII,  "the  most 
profligate  of  mankind.  But  instead  of  extinguishing  the 
schism,  the  rashness  of  the  French  and  Italians  had  given  a 
third  pretender  to  the  chair  of  St.  Peter.  Such  new  claims 
of  the  synod  and  conclave  were  disputed;  three  kings,  of 
Germany,  Hungary,  and  Naples,  adhered  to  the  cause  of 
Gregory  XII ;  and  Benedict  XIII,  himself  a  Spaniard,  was 
acknowledged  by  the  devotion  and  patriotism  of  that  power- 
ful nation.  The  rash  proceedings  of  Pisa  were  corrected  by 
the  Council  of  Constance.  The  Emperor  Sigismund  acted 
a  conspicuous  part  as  the  advocate  or  protector  of  the  Cath- 
olic Church ;  and  the  number  and  weight  of  civil  and  ecclesi- 
astical members  might  seem  to  constitute  the  States-general  of 
Europe.  Of  the  three  popes,  John  XXIII  was  the  first  victim: 
he  fled  and  was  brought  back  a  prisoner.  The  most  scanda- 
lous charges  were  suppressed;  the  vicar  of  Christ  was  only 
accused  of  piracy,  murder,  rape,  sodomy,  and  incest;  and 
after  subscribing  his  own  condemnation,  he  expiated  in 
prison  the  imprudence  of  trusting  his  person  to  a  free  city 
beyond  the  Alps.  Gregory  XII,  whose  obedience  was  re- 
duced to  the  narrow  precincts  of  Rimini,  descended  with 
more  honor  from  the  throne;  and  his  ambassador  convened 
the  session  in  which  he  renounced  the  title  and  authority 
of  lawful  pope.  To  vanquish  the  obstinacy  of  Benedict  XIII 
or  his  adherents,  the  emperor  in  person  undertook  a  journey 
from  Constance  to  Perpignon.  The  kings  of  Castile,  Aragon, 
Navarre,  and  Scotland  obtained  an  equal  and  honorable 
treaty.  With  the  concurrence  of  the  Spaniards,  Benedict  was 
deposed  by  the  council;  but  the  harmless  old  man  was  left 
in  a  solitary  castle  to  excommunicate  twice  each  day  the 
rebel  kingdoms  which  had  deserted  his  cause.  After  thus 
eradicating  the  remains  of  the  schism,  the  Synod  of  Con- 
stance proceeded  with  slow  and  cautious  steps  to  elect  the 
sovereign  of  Rome  and  the  head  of  the  Church. 


JOHN    HUSS.  61 

John  Huss. 

Milman's  History  of  Latin  Christianity. 

Of  Milman's  Latin  Christianity,  Samuel  Kendall  Adams, 
the  distinguished  late  professor  of  history  and  president  of 
Cornell  University,  writes :  "  Of  the  numerous  works  on  the 
history  of  the  Church  in  the  Middle  Ages  this  will  generally  be 
found  at  once  the  most  readable,  the  most  impartial,  and  the 
most  satisfactory."  It  is  true  that  the  Decline  and  Fall  of  fhe 
Roman  Empire  by  Gibbon,  which  covers  substantially  the  same 
ground,  is  far  more  celebrated,  but  we  doubt  that  it  is  read 
nearly  as  much  as  the  less  pretentious,  but  much  more  readable 
work  from  which  the  following  extract  on  the  trial,  condemna- 
tion, and  martyrdom  of  Huss  is  taken.  And  although  Milman 
also  must  add  his  testimony  to  the  many  other  truthful  and 
fair  historians  who,  in  relating  the  facts  of  the  past,  were 
forced  to  reveal  the  perfidies,  cruelties,  and  antichristian  prac- 
tices of  the  papacy  by  which  she  fought  and,  too  often  also, 
destroyed  these  courageous  confessors  of  Christ  whose  clear 
testimony  she  could  neither  gainsay  nor  confute,  yet,  so  im- 
partial does  our  author  deal  with  all  these  matters  that  no 
less  a  distinguished  Roman  Catholic  than  Cardinal  Newman 
gives  to  his  work  the  heartiest  commendation. 

The  following  extract  in  which  the  great  herald  of  a  better 
and  more  enlightened  age  is  portrayed  as  he  falls  beneath  the 
brute  force  of  the  ignorant,  greedy,  and  debauched  "princes" 
of  that  Church  which  has  shed  more  blood  of  the  saints  than 
any  other  human  agency,  is  another  indictment  of  history 
against  Catholic  brutality. 

The  fame  of  Huss  traveled  before  him:  curiosity  or  in- 
terest in  his  doctrines  triumphed  over  the  German  aversion 
to  the  Bohemian.  In  many  towns  he  held  conferences  even 
with  the  clergy,  and  parted  from  them  on  amicable  terms.  At 
Nuremberg  he  was  met  by  three  Bohemian  nobles,  who  bore 
from  Spires  the  imperial  safe-conduct,  couched  in  the  strict- 
est and  fullest  terms,  guaranteeing  his  safe  entrance  and  his 
safe  return  from  Constance.  John  of  Chlum,  Wenzel  of 
Duba,  Henry  of  Lazenbach,  were  charged  to  watch  and  keep 
guard  over  their  countryman,  who  traveled  under  the  special 
protection  of  the  Emperor. 

Not  many  days  after  the  arrival  of  the  Pope,  John  Huss 
entered  Constance.  He  was  graciously  received  by  the  Pope 
himself.  Nothing  was  said  of  the  ban  of  excommunication 
which  still  hung  over  him :  it  is  doubtful  whether  it  was  not 
legally  annulled  by  his  reception  before  the  Pope.  Strong 


62  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

expressions  are  attributed  to  the  Pope :  "  If  he  had  slain  my 
brother,  I  would  not  permit,  as  far  as  is  in  my  power,  any 
harm  to  be  done  to  him  in  Constance."  The  Pope,  on  whom 
religion  hung  so  loosely,  may  not  have  had  that  deep  aversion 
for,  he  may  not  fully  have  comprehended,  the  bearing  of  the 
Wyckliffite  tenets;  still  less  could  he  comprehend  the  stern, 
stubborn  conscientiousness  which  would  not  swerve  from,  and 
which  would  boldly  assert  such  opinions  in  the  face  of  danger 
or  death.  Noble  religious  fanaticism  has  constantly  baffled 
the  reckoning  of  the  most  profound  worldly  sagacity.  He 
might  fondly  suppose  the  possibility  of  the  Bohemian's  sub- 
mission to  papal  arguments,  impressed  by  papal  majesty;  and 
the  submission  of  so  famous  a  heretic  to  his  milder  admo- 
nitions would  give  him  overweening  weight  in  the  council. 
But  with  the  more  keen-eyed  and  inflexible  Italian  cardinals 
Huss  was  only  a  barbarian  and  heretic.  They  could  not  but 
discern  (for  they  had  nothing  to  blind  their  instinct)  the 
vital  oppugnancy  of  his  views  to  the  hierarchical  system, 
Huss  himself  could  not  remain  in  modest  and  inoffensive 
privacy.  Partisans,  admirers,  would  crowd  around  him; 
his  zeal  would  not  permit  him  in  base  timidity  to  shrink 
from  the  avowal  of  his  creed,  whether  by  preaching  in  his 
house  or  among  his  followers.  The  Bishop  of  Constance 
admonished  him,  but  in  vain,  and  forbade  his  celebrating 
mass  while  yet  unabsolved. 

The  arrival  of  Stephen  Palecz  and  Michael  de  Causis, 
the  bitter  and  implacable  adversaries  of  Huss,  with  whom  he 
had  been  involved  in  fierce  controversy,  changed  the  sus- 
pended state  of  affairs.  These  men  stood  forward  openly  as 
his  accusers.  They  swept  away  all  the  fairer,  milder,  or 
more  subtle  interpretations  by  which  Huss  reconciled  his 
own  doctrines  with  the  orthodox  creed,  especially  as  regarded 
the  clergy.  Huss  had  declared  wicked  popes,  wicked  cardinals, 
wicked  prelates,  to  be  utterly  without  authority,  their  ex- 
communications void,  their  administration  of  the  sacraments 
as  only  to  be  valid  by  some  nice  distinction.  Palecz  and  de 
Causis  cast  all  these  maxims  in  their  native,  unmitigated 
offensiveness  before  the  indignant  hierarchy.  Huss  was 
summoned,  yet  by  a  deputation  which  still  showed  respect, 
the  Bishops  of  Augsburg  and  Trent,  to  appear  before  the  Con- 
sistory of  the  Popes  and  Cardinals.  He  obeyed,  protesting, 


JOHN    HUSS.  63 

nevertheless,  that  he  came  to  render  account  to  the  Council, 
not  to  the  Consistory.  The  charges  of  heresy  were  read. 
Huss  quietly  declared  that  he  had  rather  die  than  be  justly 
condemned  as  a  heretic.  "  If  convinced  of  error,  he  would 
make  full  recantation."  He  retired,  but  his  lodging  was  en- 
circled from  that  time  by  watchful  sentinels.  A  monk  was 
let  loose  upon  him  to  ensnare  him  with  dangerous  questions. 
Huss  had  the  shrewdness  to  detect  in  the  monk,  who  affected 
the  utmost  simplicity,  one  of  the  subtlest  theologians  of  the 
day. 

Four  weeks  after  his  arrival  at  Constance,  notwithstand- 
ing his  appeal  to  the  imperial  safe-conduct,  notwithstanding 
the  protest  of  his  noble  Bohemian  .protector,  John  de  Chlum, 
Huss  was  committed  to  prison  in  the  Bishop's  palace.  To 
de  Chlum  the  Pope  protested  that  it  was  done  without  his 
authority.  The  Pope  might  find  it  expedient  to  disclaim  such 
an  act.  A  congregation  was  summoned  to  hear  eight  articles 
promoted  by  the  Bohemian,  Michael  de  Causis,  against  John 
Huss.  Three  commissioners  had  been  named  by  the  Pope. 
A  more  numerous  commission  of  cardinals,  bishops  and  Doc- 
tors was  appointed  to  conduct  the  inquiry.  From  his  first 
prison  he  was  conducted  to  a  closer  and  more  safe  one  in  the 
Dominican  Convent.  There  he  fell  ill,  and  was  attended  by 
the  Pope's  physicians.  He  recovered,  and  in  his  prison  wrote 
several  works,  which  were  eagerly  dispersed  among  his 
brethren. 

John  de  Chlum  took  bold  and  active  measures  for  the 
release  of  Huss.  He  communicated  this  insolent  violation  of 
the  imperial  safe-conduct  to  Sigismund,  who  was  on  his  way 
from  the  coronation  at  Aix-la-Chapelle.  The  Emperor 
broke  into  wrath.  He  gave  orders  that  if  the  Pope  and 
cardinals  did  not  obey  his  mandate,  the  doors  of  the  prison 
should  be  opened  by  force.  But  no  one  ventured  to  invade 
the  Dominican  cloister,  and  the  Council  yet  respected  the 
ordinances  of  the  Pope  and  cardinals.  De  Chlum  affixed 
writings  on  all  the  church-doors  in  Constance,  declaring, 
in  strong  language,  the  imprisonment  of  Huss  to  be  an 
outrage  against  the  Emperor;  that  all  who  had  presumed  to 
violate  the  imperial  safe-conduct,  and  still  presumed  to 
resist  the  demands  of  the  imperial  ambassador  for  his  re- 
lease, would  be  called  to  account. 

*  *  * 


64  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

The  Emperor  consented  to  violate  his  own  safe-conduct, 
to  abandon  John  Huss.  The  Bohemian  was,  with  the  con- 
sent of  Sigismund,  committed  to  closer  custody.  It  was 
understood  that  he  was  to  be  tried  by  the  Council,  doomed 
by  the  Council,  and  that  whatever  might  be  the  sentence 
of  the  Council,  it  would  be  carried  into  execution  by  the 
secular  arm.  The  Council  was  thus  further  relieved  from 
debate  on  that  question,  it  was  out  of  the  way  of  their  ul- 
terior proceedings;  the  rock  on  which  they  might  have  split 
was  avoided ;  their  onward  course  was  straight,  clear,  open. 

Breach  of  faith  admits  no  excuse;  perfidy  is  twice  per- 
fidious in  an  emperor.  .  .  .  Sigismund  yielded,  perhaps  not 
without  self-reproach,  certainly  not  without  remonstrance 
which  must  have  galled  a  man  of  his  high  feeling  to  the 
quick.  The  Bohemian  lords,  the  Burgrave  of  Prague,  and 
others  had  already  written  a  strong  demand,  which  arrived 
about  this  time,  for  the  liberty  of  John  Huss.  He  had  been 
proclaimed,  as  they  averred,  by  Conrad,  Archbishop  of 
Prague,  under  his  seal,  guiltless  of  the  slightest  word  of 
heresy.  A  second,  still  more  vigorous  protest  had  followed, 
on  his  removal  from  the  Dominican  Convent,  against  this 
flagrant  violation  of  public  faith.  "  They  would  deeply 
grieve  if  they  should  hear  that  his  august  Majesty  was  pol- 
luted by  such  enormous  iniquity.  Every  one  hereafter 
would  spurn  and  despise  an  imperial  safe-conduct." 
*  *  * 

On  the  last  day  of  May  the  Bohemians  presented  a 
memorial  to  the  Council.  They  expostulated  on  the  neglect 
of  their  former  petition;  they  recited  the  declaration  of 
faith  which  had  been  disseminated  throughout  Bohemia  by 
the  friends  of  Huss,  asserting  his  full  belief  in  all  the 
articles  of  the  creed,  his  determination  to  defend  them  to 
death,  and  the  testimonial  of  the  grand  Inquisitor,  the  Bishop 
of  Nazareth,  acquitting  him  of  all  heterodox  opinions.  They 
demanded  his  release  from  his  noisome  prison,  by  which  his 
health  was  affected,  and  that  he  should  be  heard  before  the 
Council  against  his  calumnious  enemies.  The  Patriarch  of 
Antioch  answered  coldly  in  the  name  of  the  Council  that  the 
testimonials  were  of  no  avail  till  they  should  have  undergone 
close  examination  before  themselves;  they  had  no  faith  in 
his  statements.  Yet  they  would  condescend,  as  an  act  of 


JOHN    HUSS.  65 

grace,  to  grant  him  a  public  hearing;  for  this  end  he  would 
be  removed  from  his  present  confinement.  Sigismund  so 
expressed  his  approbation  of  the  resolution  to  grant  a  hearing 
that  the  partisans  of  Huss  weakly  concluded  that  the  royal 
favor  would  protect  their  teacher. 

The  Council  would  willingly  have  avoided  the  notoriety 
of  a  public  examination.  Huss  was  visited  in  his  cell  at 
Gotleben  by  the  Patriarch  of  Antioch,  by  Michael  de  Causis, 
and  Stephen  Palecz.  He  was  urged  to  retract.  They  now, 
however,  interrogated  him,  as  he  complains,  with  the  cap- 
tious and  ensnaring  severity  of  inquisitors,  adducing  against 
him  words  culled  out  of  all  his  letters  and  discourses. 
Palecz  adduced  phrases  uttered  in  frank  and  careless  con- 
versation. The  patriarch  reproached  him  with  the  wealth 
he  had  obtained,  "  Have  you  not  70,000  florins  ?  "  His  an- 
swers were  brief  and  cautious,  "  I  will  retract  when  convinced 
of  my  error." 

He  was  removed  to  the  Franciscan  Cloister.  In  the  mean 
time,  the  utmost  industry  had  been  employed  in  collecting 
obnoxious  passages  from  all  his  writings  and  from  adverse 
witnesses.  The  cardinals  sat  in  council  on  these  in  order  to 
frame  articles  of  accusation.  Sigismund  required  that  these 
articles  should  be  communicated  to  Huss.  The  cardinals 
deigned  to  accede,  not  as  of  right,  but  as  of  favor.  The 
partisans  of  Huss  were  prepared,  on  the  other  hand,  with 
authenticated  copies  of  all  his  writings  to  confront  false  ci- 
tations, or  contest  unjust  inferences. 

On  the  fifth  of  June,  John  Huss  was  brought  in  chains 
into  the  Council.  His  works  were  presented  to  him;  he 
acknowledged  them  for  his  own.  The  articles  were  read ;  but 
either  the  indignation  of  the  adversaries  or  the  zeal  of  his 
partisans,  or  both,  raised  such  an  uproar  that  silence  could 
hardly  be  enforced.  Huss  calmly  declared  himself  ready 
to  maintain  his  opinions  by  Scripture  and  by  the  Fathers. 
Another  outburst  of  abuse  and  mockery  compelled  the  Council 
to  adjourn  its  proceedings. 

On  the  morning  of  the  seventh  of  June,  Constance  was 
darkened  by  an  eclipse  of  the  sun.  At  Prague  the  eclipse  was 
total,  a  sinister  omen  to  the  followers  of  Huss.  Two  hours 
after  the  darkness  had  passed  away,  John  Huss  stood  again 
before  the  Council.  All  the  more  distinguished  Fathers  sat  in 


66  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

their  order.  The  Emperor  was  on  his  throne ;  a  strong  guard 
attended  to  keep  order.  Wenzel  de  Duba  and  John  de  Chlum, 
nobles,  and  other  Bohemians  watched  the  course  of  things 
with  grave  solicitude.  The  accusers  began  on  the  perilous 
Article  of  Transubstantiation.  But  the  answer  of  Huss  was 
clear,  distinct,  unimpeachable.  The  Cardinal  of  Cambray 
alone,  as  jealous  of  his  nominalist  philosophy  as  for  his 
orthodox  religion,  endeavored  by  a  syllogism  about  universals 
intelligible  only  according  to  scholastic  jargon,  to  prove  that 
Huss  must  assert  that  the  material  bread  remained  after  con- 
secration. Huss  extricated  himself  with  address  and  triumph. 
"  His  philosophic  doctrine  was  that  of  St.  Anselm."  He 
averred  transubstantiation  to  be  a  perpetual  miracle  and  so 
exempt  from  all  logical  form.  An  English  bishop  took  up  the 
Cardinal's  cause.  "  A  boy  in  the  schools,"  said  Huss,  "  might 
answer  such  puerility."  To  the  other  more  general  charges, 
— that  he  had  preached  Wyckliffite  doctrines;  that  he  offici- 
ated as  priest  when  under  excommunication  by  the  Pope ;  that 
he  had  spoken  with  contempt  of  some  of  the  most  learned 
prelates  of  the  day,  even  the  Chancellor  Gerson ;  that  he  had 
excited  tumults  in  Bohemia,  he  replied  with  admirable  pres- 
ence of  mind  and  perfect  self-command.  Once,  indeed,  he 
admitted  that  he  had  said,  "  Wyckliffe,  I  trust,  will  be  saved ; 
but  could  I  think  he  would  be  damned,  I  would  my  soul  were 
with  his."  A  burst  of  contemptuous  laughter  followed  this 
avowal,  of  which,  however,  it  is  not  difficult  to  see  the  hidden 
meaning.  After  some  hours  of  turbulent  discussion,  he  was 
ordered  to  withdraw,  under  custody  of  the  Archbishop  of  Riga, 
Keeper  of  the  Seals  of  the  Council. 

Before  he  was  removed,  the  Cardinal  of  Cambray  rose 
and  demanded  whether  he  had  not  boasted  that,  if  he  had  not 
come  to  the  Council  of  his  own  free  will,  neither  king  nor 
emperor  could  have  compelled  his  appearance.  "  There  are 
many  nobles  in  Bohemia,"  answered  Huss,  "  who  honor  me 
with  their  protection.  Had  I  not  willed  to  come  to  the 
Council  they  would  have  placed  me  in  some  stronghold  be- 
yond the  power  of  the  king  or  emperor."  The  Cardinal 
lifted  up  his  hand  in  amazement  at  this  insolence;  a  fierce 
murmur  ran  through  the  assembly.  Thereat  arose  John 
de  Chlum:  "John  Huss  speaks  the  truth;  I  am  one  of  the 
least  of  the  nobles  of  Bohemia;  in  my  castle  I  would  have 


JOHN    HUSS.  67 

defended  him  for  a  year  against  all  the  forces  of  emperor 
or  king.  How  much  more  lords  mightier  than  I,  with 
castles  far  more  impregnable !  "  The  cardinals  said  in  a 
lower  tone,  "  Huss,  I  admonish  you  for  your  safety  and 
your  honor  to  submit  to  the  Council,  as  you  have  promised 
in  prison."  All  eyes  were  turned  upon  the  Emperor. 
Sigismund  rose;  the  purpose  of  his  speech  was  that  he  had 
issued  the  safe-conduct  in  order  to  give  Huss  an  opportunity 
of  rendering  an  account  of  his  faith  before  the  Council. 
The  cardinals  and  prelates  (he  thanked  them  for  it)  had 
granted  him  this  favor,  though  many  asserted  that  it  was 
beyond  his  power  to  take  a  heretic  under  his  protection. 
He  counseled  Huss  to  maintain  nothing  with  obstinacy,  but 
to  submit  to  the  Council  on  all  articles  charged  and  proved 
against  him.  So  doing,  he  might  return  in  the  good  graces 
of  the  Council  to  his  home,  after  some  slight  penance  and 
moderate  satisfaction.  "  If  not,  the  Council  will  know  how 
to  deal  with  you.  For  myself,  far  from  defending  you  in 
your  errors  and  in  your  contumacy,  I  will  be  the  first  to  light 
the  fire  with  my  own  hands."  Huss  began  to  thank  the 
Emperor  for  his  clemency  in  granting  him  safe-conduct. 
The  friendly  interruption  of  John  de  Chlum  reminded  him 
that  the  Emperor  had  charged  him  with  obstinacy.  He  pro- 
tested in  God's  name  that  he  had  no  such  intention.  "  He  had 
come  of  his  own  free  will  to  Constance,  determined,  if  better 
instructed,  to  surrender  his  opinions."  He  was  conducted 
back  to  prison. 

The  next  day  Huss  stood  the  third  time  before  the 
Council.  Thirty-nine  articles  were  exhibited  against  him, 
twenty-six  from  his  book  on  the  Church,  seven  from  a  con- 
troversial tract  against  Stephen  Palecz,  six  from  one 
against  Stanislaus  of  Znaym.  Huss,  like  most  reformers, 
held  the  high  Augustinian  notion  of  predestination.  "  None 
were  members  of  the  true  Indefeasible  Church  but  those  pre- 
destined to  eternal  life."  On  these  points  he  appealed 
triumphantly  to  the  all-honored  name  of  Augustine.  None 
dared  to  answer.  But  when  this  theory  was  applied  to 
churchmen,  to  prelates,  to  the  Pope  himself,  and  when  their 
whole  authority  was  set  on  their  succession  not  to  the 
titles,  but  to  the  virtues  of  the  Apostles,  the  Council  sat 
amazed  and  embarrassed.  "The  Pontiff,  who  lives  not  the 


<J8  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

life  of  St.  Peter,  is  no  vicar  of  Christ  but  the  forerunner  of 
Antichrist."  A  citation  from  St.  Bernard  seemed  to  con- 
firm that  dread  sentence :  "  The  slave  of  avarice  is  the 
successor  not  of  Peter,  but  of  Judas  Iscariot."  The  church- 
men looked  at  each  other  and  smiled,  no  doubt  some  a  bitter 
smile.  In  an  evil  moment  Huss  pressed  his  fearless  logic. 
"A  king  in  mortal  sin  is  no  king  before  God."  Sigismund 
was  looking  out  of  the  window.  "  There  never,"  he  was 
saying,  "  lived  a  more  pernicious  heretic."  The  Cardinal  of 
Cambray  roused  his  attention  to  this  last  perilous  conclusion. 
Huss  repeated  his  words  aloud.  The  Emperor  only  answered, 
"  There  is  no  man  that  sinneth  not."  "  What !  "  burst  out 
the  Cardinal,  "  art  thou  not  content  with  degrading  the  ec- 
clesiastical power,  wouldst  thou  thrust  kings  from  their 
thrones  ?  "  "A  man,"  argued  Palecz,  "  may  be  a  true  pope, 
prelate,  or  king,  though  not  a  true  Christian."  "  Why,  then, 
have  you  deposed  John  XXIII  ?  "  The  Emperor  answered, 
"  For  his  notorious  misdeeds."  Huss  had  been  guilty  of 
the  rashness  of  discomforting  and  perplexing  his  adversaries. 
The  cardinals  were  most  indignant  at  what  Cambray  de- 
nounced as  an  unjust  and  overdrawn  appeal  to  popular 
animosity  among  them.  They  constantly  urged  that  the 
articles  gave  but  a  mild  and  mitigated  notion  of  the  language 
of  Huss.  Huss  was  arraigned  for  this  assertion :  "  No  her- 
etic should  suffer  more  than  ecclesiastical  punishment,  none 
to  be  delivered  to  the  secular  arm  to  be  punished  by  death." 
Yet  even  Huss,  and  Huss  at  that  moment,  shrank  from  the 
full  avowal  of  that  simple  evangelic  maxim.  "  The  heretic 
was  first  to  be  instructed  fairly,  mildly,  humbly,  out  of  the 
Scriptures  and  by  reason;  if  he  refused  to  desist  from  his 
error,  to  be  punished,  according  to  St.  Augustine,  in  the  body." 
He  acknowledged  a  sentence  in  his  works,  which  likened 
those  who  gave  up  a  heretic  to  the  secular  arm  unconvicted 
to  the  Pharisees.  "  Whom,"  cried  the  cardinals,  "  meanest 
thou  by  the  Pharisees  ?  "  "  Those  who  deliver  an  innocent 
man  to  the  sword." 

At  the  close  of  the  session  the  Cardinal  of  Cambray  urged 
Huss,  who  had  heard  the  atrocious  charges  adduced  against 
him,  to  make  unqualified  submission  to  the  Council,  and  to 
abjure  all  his  errors.  "  If  he  persisted,  the  Council  would 
know  how  to  proceed."  The  Emperor  condescended  to  argue 


JOHN    HUSS.  69 

with  him  in  the  same  tone.  His  two  accusers,  Palecz  and  de 
Causis,  appealed  to  Heaven  that  they  were  actuated  by  no 
personal  hostility  towards  Huss.  , 

Huss  replied  with  firm  humility  that  he  sought  instruction ; 
he  could  not  abjure  errors  of  which  he  was  not  convinced. 
Many  things  charged  against  him  were  forged,  many  per- 
verted from  their  true  meaning.  He  could  not  abjure  those, 
he  could  not  sin  against  his  conscience.  He  was  remanded 
to  prison;  the  faithful  Bohemian  knight,  John  de  Chlum, 
followed  to  console  his  weary  friend. 

The  Emperor  rose :  "  You  have  heard  the  charges  against 
Huss  proved  by  trustworthy  witnesses,  some  confessed  by  him- 
self. In  my  judgment  each  of  these  crimes  is  deserving  of 
death.  If  he  does  not  forswear  all  his  errors,  he  must  be 
burned.  If  he  submits,  he  must  be  stripped  of  his  preacher's 
office  and  banished  from  Bohemia:  there  he  would  only 
disseminate  more  dangerous  errors.  .  .  .  The  evil  must 
be  extirpated  root  and  branch.  ...  If  any  of  his  par- 
tisans are  in  Constance,  they  must  be  proceeded  against  with 
the  utmost  severity,  especially  his  disciple,  Jerome  of 
Prague."  Sigismund  had  wrought  himself,  no  doubt  as  an 
excuse  for  his  remonstrant  conscience,  to  a  fanaticism  of 
obedience  to  the  Church. 

Huss  heard  in  his  prison  the  Emperor's  declaration.  "  I 
was  warned  not  to  trust  to  his  safe-conduct.  I  have  been 
under  a  sad  delusion;  he  has  condemned  me  even  before 
my  enemies." 

The  fatal  hour  had  now  come.  The  Council,  which  as- 
serted itself  to  be  under  the  actual  inspiration  of  the  Holy 
Ghost,  could  not  recede  without  the  impeachment  of  in- 
difference to  doctrine  which  itself  had  declared  to  be  deadly 
heresy,  or  without  disavowing  the  right  established  by  the 
terrible  usage  of  centuries  of  awarding  capital  punishment 
for  that  which  the  Church  had  been  so  long  teaching  the 
world  was  a  mortal  crime;  a  crime  which  it  was  the  most 
sacred  duty  to  God  and  man  in  the  priest  to  avenge,  in  the 
temporal  sovereign,  at  the  demand  of  the  priest,  to  punish 
by  fire.  Huss  could  not  retract  without  perjury  to  his  own 
conscience,  without  base  treachery  to  his  followers,  whom 
he  had  instructed,  whom  he  had  kindled  to  a  fanatic  faith 
in  that  which  he  himself  had  believed,  which  he  still  believed 


70  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

to  be  the  saving  Gospel  of  Christ ;  and  this  from  the  fear  of 
death,  death  which,  as  he  himself  was  assured,  as  his  partisans 
had  no  less  confidence,  would  secure  him  the  martyr's  crown. 

A  form  of  recantation  was  drawn  by  Cardinal  Zabarella, 
studiously  mild  in  its  terms,  but  of  necessity  an  explicit  re- 
nunciation of  his  errors,  a  humble  submission  to  the  de- 
terminations, to  the  definitions  of  the  Holy  Council.  He 
was  to  abjure,  retract,  revoke  all  his  errors,  and  undergo 
whatever  penance  the  Council  might  decree  for  his  soul's 
health. 

The  answer  of  Huss  was  a  prayer  to  God  Almighty  for 
everlasting  life,  through  Christ  Jesus.  He  thanked  the 
Reverend  Father,  Zabarella  of  Florence,  for  his  pious  and 
paternal  kindness.  "  But  if  Eleazar  under  the  old  law  re- 
fused to  eat  forbidden  fruit,  lest  he  should  sin  against 
God,  and  leave  a  bad  example  to  posterity,  how  can  I,  a 
priest  of  the  new  law,  however  unworthy,  from  fear  of  a 
punishment,  so  brief  and  transitory,  sin  so  heinously  against 
the  Law  of  God,  first  by  departure  from  truth,  secondly  by 
perjury,  thirdly  by  grievous  scandal  to  my  brethren?  It 
is  better  for  me  to  die  than  by  avoiding  momentary  punish- 
ment to  fall  into  the  hands  of  God,  and  perhaps  into  everlast- 
ing fire.  I  have  appealed  to  Jesus  Christ,  the  one  all-powerful 
and  all-just  Judge;  to  Him  I  commit  my  cause,  who  will 
judge  every  man,  not  according  to  false  witnesses  and  erring 
councils,  but  according  to  truth  and  man's  desert." 

Persons  of  the  highest  rank,  cardinals,  prelates,  the  Em- 
peror, even  his  adversary,  Stephen  Palecz,  again  entreated 
him,  and  with  tears,  to  depart  from  his  stubborn  resolution. 
His  answer  was  calm,  unboastful,  with  nothing  of  the  ve- 
hemence or  contemptuousness  of  fanaticism.  He  acknowl- 
edged how  hard  his  soul  was  tried;  at  the  same  time,  in  his 
letters  to  Bohemia,  some  of  which  were  publicly  read  in  the 
Bethlehem  Chapel  at  Prague,  and  in  others,  addressed  to  the 
University  of  Prague,  he  declared  that  he  could  forswear  no 
one  of  his  doctrines.  He  had  not  been  convinced  out  of 
the  Scriptures;  he  awaited  in  tranquillity  the  judgment  of  the 
Lord. 

The  Council  proceeded  in  full  session  to  condemn  the 
doctrine  of  Jacob  de  Mies,  concerning  the  Cup :  an  omen  and 
a  warning!  The  writings  of  Huss  were  ordered  to  be  pub- 


JOHN    HUSS.  71 

licly  burned.  The  Council  itself  sent  another  deputation  to 
urge  submission.  The  Emperor  had  been  a  short  time 
absent;  the  day  before  the  final  judgment  he  sent  four 
bishops,  Wenzel  of  Duba,  John  de  Chlum,  with  a  still  more 
mitigated  form  of  recantation.  Huss  was  only  to  retract 
those  tenets  which  he  acknowledged  to  be  his  own.  Even 
John  de  Chlum  endeavored  to  move,  or  rather  to  strengthen 
him.  "  I  am  but  an  unlettered  man,  unfit  to  counsel  one  so 
learned.  If  you  are  conscious  of  error,  be  not  ashamed  to 
confess  it  to  the  Council.  If  not,  I  cannot  advise  you  to  act 
against  your  conscience.  Bear  any  punishment  rather  than 
renounce  the  truth."  Huss  answered  that  he  would  abandon 
any  opinion  on  proofs  deduced  from  Holy  Scripture.  A 
bishop  reproached  him  with  arrogantly  setting  up  his 
opinion  against  the  whole  Council.  "  Let  the  lowest  in  the 
Council  convince  me;  I  will  humbly  own  my  error."  The 
night  before  his  condemnation  Huss  made  confession,  and, 
it  is  asserted,  received  absolution  from  a  monk. 

The  Council  met  in  the  cathedral;  the  Cardinal-Bishop 
of  Ostia  presided.  Sigismund  and  the  princes  of  the  Empire 
were  present.  While  mass  was  celebrated,  Huss,  as  a 
heretic,  stood  in  the  porch.  The  Bishop  of  Lodi  preached 
from  the  text,  "  That  the  body  of  sin  might  be  destroyed." 
It  was  a  fierce  declamation;  it  suggested  that  Huss  was  as 
"  bad  as  Arius,  worse  than  Sabellius."  The  preacher  closed 
with  adulatory  praise  of  the  Emperor.  "  It  is  thy  glorious 
office  to  destroy  heresy  and  schism,  especially  this  obstinate 
heretic."  He  pointed  to  Huss,  who  was  kneeling  in  an 
elevated  place  and  in  fervent  prayer. 

A  decree  of  the  Council  was  read,  inhibiting  all  present, 
without  exception,  prelates,  princes,  kings,  emperors,  under 
pain  of  excommunication  and  two  months'  imprisonment,  to 
speak  without  permission,  to  reply,  to  interrupt  the  pro- 
ceedings, to  give  any  sign  or  murmur  of  applause  or  dis- 
approbation, either  with  the  hands  or  feet.  Certain  tenets 
of  Wyckliffe  were  here  recited  and  condemned,  afterwards 
thirty  articles  containing  the  articles  of  Huss.  Often,  while 
these  articles  were  read,  Huss  attempted  to  speak ;  as  often 
he  was  put  to  silence.  At  length,  while  he  was  arraigned 
as  believing  that  the  material  bread  remained  after  the  con- 
secration, he  broke  out,  "  That  I  deny ;  so  I  have  never 


72  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

believed  or  taught."  He  renounced  with  equal  vehemence 
a  charge  that  he  had  added  a  fourth  person  to  the  Trinity; 
he  defied  them  to  produce  their  nameless  witness.  His  ap- 
peal to  Christ  was  treated  as  an  impious  error.  "  Oh, 
blessed  Jesus ! "  he  uttered  with  a  loud  voice,  "  this  Thy 
Council  condemns  us  because  in  our  afflictions  we  have  sought 
refuge  with  Thee,  the  one  just  Judge."  He  added,  "  This 
I  constantly  affirm,  that  the  surest  and  most  safe  appeal  is  to 
the  Lord  Jesus;  Him  none  can  pervert  or  bribe  by  gifts, 
none  deceive  by  false  witnesses,  or  beguile  by  craft.  He 
will  render  unto  every  one  his  own."  He  justified  himself 
for  having  continued  to  officiate  as  priest  after  his  ex- 
communication by  the  Pope.  "  Freely  came  I  hither  under 
the  safe-conduct  of  the  Emperor."  He  turned  and  looked 
steadily  at  Sigismund.  A  deep  blush  passed  over  the  face 
of  the  Emperor. 

The  Bishop  of  Concordia,  an  aged,  bald  Italian  prelate, 
rose  to  read  the  two  sentences,  one  condemning  the  writings, 
the  other  the  person  of  John  Huss  to  the  flames, — his  writings 
as  propagating  the  tenets  of  the  heresiarch  Wyckliffe,  and  as 
containing  many  things  erroneous,  scandalous,  offensive 
to  pious  ears,  some  notoriously  heretical;  all,  both  in  Latin 
and  Bohemian,  were  adjudged  to  be  publicly  and  solemnly 
burned. 

Huss  was  commanded  to  kneel  and  hear  his  own  sentence. 
The  Council,  having  God  before  its  eyes,  declared  Huss  a  real 
and  manifest  heresiarch,  who  had  advanced  doctrines  of- 
fensive, rash,  seditious,  had  trampled  under  foot  the  power 
of  the  keys  and  the  censures  of  the  Church,  had  scandalized 
all  true  Christians  by  his  appeal  to  Jesus  Christ.  "This 
John  Huss,  being  thus  obstinate  and  incorrigible,  who  has 
refused  to  enter  into  the  bosom  of  the  Church  and  abjure 
his  errors."  Huss  broke  in,  "I  have  ever  desired,  and  still 
desire,  to  be  instructed  out  of  the  Holy  Scriptures."  The 
Bishop  concluded  with  condemning  him  to  be  degraded  and 
despoiled  of  his  orders.  Huss  rose  from  his  knees ;  he  uttered 
a  fervent  prayer  to  God  to  pardon  his  enemies.  Some  of  the 
older  priests,  even  bishops,  looked  sternly  at  him,  and  laughed 
his  prayers  to  scorn.  The  Archbishop  of  Milan,  the  Bishops 
of  Bangor,  Feltre,  Ast  (in  Hungary),  Alexandria,  and  Lavaur 
were  designated  for  the  office  of  degradation.  Huss  was 


JOHN    HUSS.  73 

clad  in  all  the  attire  of  the  priesthood,  and  led  with  the  cup 
in  his  hand  to  the  high  altar,  as  if  about  to  celebrate  mass. 
As  they  put  on  the  alb,  he  said,  "  They  put  a  white  robe  on 
our  Lord  to  mock  Him  when  Herod  sent  Him  to  Pilate." 
Once  more  the  bishops  implored  him  to  recant.  He  de- 
clined for  the  same  reasons  alleged  before.  "  Behold,"  said 
the  Bishop,  "  how  obstinate  he  is  in  his  malice !  "  The  cup 
was  taken  from  his  hand.  "  Accursed  Judas,  thou  hast  de- 
serted the  way  of  peace,  thou  hast  entered  into  council  with 
the  Jews.  We  take  away  this  cup  in  which  the  blood  of  Christ 
is  offered  for  the  redemption  of  souls."  Huss  said,  "  I  trust 
that  I  shall  drink  it  this  day  in  the  kingdom  of  heaven."  He 
was  stripped  one  by  one  of  his  robes;  on  each  a  curse  was 
pronounced.  "  These  mockeries  I  bear  with  equal  mind  for  the 
name  and  the  truth  of  Christ."  The  tonsure  was  now  to  be 
effaced.  They  disputed  whether  it  was  to  be  done  with  a 
scissors  or  a  razor.  "  Lo !  they  cannot  agree,"  said  Huss 
"  how  to  put  me  to  shame."  It  was  done  with  scissors ;  the 
hair  was  cut  in  the  form  of  a  cross;  a  high  paper  crown, 
daubed  over  with  devils,  was  set  on  his  head.  "  We  devote 
thy  soul  to  the  devils  in  hell."  "  And  I  commend  my  soul 
to  the  most  merciful  Lord,  Christ  Jesus."  So  the  Church 
made  over  the  heresiarch  to  the  secular  arm.  The  Em- 
peror delivered  him  to  Louis,  Elector  Palatine,  the  imperial 
vicar;  the  Elector  to  the  magistrates  of  Constance,  the 
magistrates  to  the  executioners. 

Huss  was  led  away  with  two  of  the  headsman's  servants 
before  him,  two  behind.  Eight  hundred  horse  followed,  and 
the  whole  multitude  from  the  city.  Over  a  narrow  bridge 
they  went  in  single  file,  lest  it  should  break  with  their  weight. 
They  stopped  before  the  Bishop's  palace,  that  Huss  might 
gaze  on  the  pile  on  which  his  books  lay  burning.  He  only 
smiled  at  this  ineffectual  act  of  vengeance.  As  he  went  along, 
he  addressed  the  people  in  German,  protesting  against  the 
injustice  of  his  sentence.  "  His  adversaries  had  been  able 
to  convince  him  of  no  error."  The  place  of  execution 
was  a  meadow  without  the  walls.  He  knelt,  recited  several 
psalms,  with  the  perpetual  burthen,  "  Lord  Jesus,  have  mercy 
upon  me !  Into  Thy  hands  I  commend  my  spirit."  "  We 
know  not,"  said  the  people,  "  what  this  man  may  have  done, 
we  only  know  that  his  prayers  to  God  are  excellent."  They 


74  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

asked  if  he  would  have  a  confessor.  A  priest  on  a  stately 
horse,  and  richly  attired,  protested  that  no  confessor  should 
be  granted  to  a  heretic.  But  Reichenthal,  as  he  himself 
relates,  called  forth  Ulric  Schorand,  a  man  of  piety  and 
wisdom.  Ulric  required  that  Huss  should  retract  the  errors 
for  which  he  was  condemned.  Huss  declined  to  confess  on 
such  terms.  "  I  have  no  need ;  I  am  guilty  of  no  mortal 
sin."  He  endeavored  to  address  the  people  again  in  German. 
The  Elector  Palatine  refused  permission.  Then  Huss  prayed 
aloud,  "  Lord  Jesus,  for  Thy  sake  I  endure  with  patience 
this  cruel  death.  I  beseech  Thee  to  pardon  my  enemies." 
As  he  spoke,  the  paper  miter  fell  from  his  head.  The  rude 
soldiers  replaced  it.  "  He  shall  be  burned  with  all  his 
devils."  He  spoke  gently  to  his  guards, — "  I  trust  that  I  shall 
reign  with  Christ,  since  I  die  for  His  Gospel." 

He  was  then  tied  fast  by  an  old  rusty  chain  to  the 
stake  affixed  on  a  platform.  The  Elector  Palatine  and  the 
Marshal  Oppenheim  advanced,  and  again  urged  him  to  re- 
cant. Huss  replied  that  he  willingly  signed  his  testimony 
with  his  blood.  All  he  had  taught  and  written  was  to  save 
men's  souls  from  Satan  and  from  the  dominion  of  sin.  The 
fire  blazed  up;  it  is  said  that  an  old  woman  was  busy  in 
heaping  the  wood.  "Oh,  holy  simplicity!"  said  Huss,  with 
the  last  feeble  sounds  of  his  voice.  He  was  heard  to  chant 
Terses  of  the  psalms  and  to  pray  to  the  Redeemer.  All  the 
remains  of  the  body  were  torn  in  pieces,  even  his  clothes 
thrown  into  the  fire ;  the  ashes  were  gathered  and  thrown  into 
the  lake,  lest  his  disciples  should  make  relics  of  them.  But 
their  faithful  piety  scraped  together  the  earth  around  the 
pile  and  carried  it  to  Bohemia. 


Reception  of  Columbus  at  Palos. 

Irving's  Life  of  Columbus. 

Washington  Irving's  Life  of  Columbus  is  a  masterpiece  of 
style  and  diction.  A  boy  of  twelve  years  who  has  a  taste  for 
historical  reading  will  read  certain  chapters  of  this  book  with 
the  interest  that  is  usually  given  to  works  of  fiction  only.  If 
one  wishes  to  arouse  in  a  child  that  is  capable  of  understanding 
the  language  a  taste  for  history,  there  could  hardly  be  found  a 
work  more  suited  to  the  purpose  than  Irving's  Life  of  Co- 
lumbus. 


RECEPTION   OF   COLUMBUS   AT   PALOS.  75 

The  triumphant  return  of  Columbus  was  a  prodigious 
event  in  the  history  of  the  little  port  of  Palos,  where  every- 
body was  more  or  less  interested  in  the  fate  of  his  ex- 
pedition. The  most  important  and  wealthy  sea-captains  of 
the  place  had  engaged  in  it,  and  scarcely  a  family  but  had 
some  relative  or  friend  among  the  navigators.  The  departure 
of  the  ships,  upon  what  appeared  a  chimerical  and  desperate 
cruise,  had  spread  gloom  and  dismay  over  the  place ;  and 
the  storms  which  had  raged  throughout  the  winter  had 
heightened  the  public  despondency.  Many  lamented  their 
friends  as  lost,  while  imagination  lent  mysterious  horrors 
to  their  fate,  picturing  them  as  driven  about  over  wild  and 
desert  wastes  of  water  without  a  shore,  or  as  perishing  amidst 
rocks  and  quicksands  and  whirlpools ;  or  a  prey  to  those 
monsters  of  the  deep  with  which  credulity  peopled  every 
distant  and  unfrequented  sea.  There  was  something  more 
awful  in  such  a  mysterious  fate  than  in  death  itself,  under 
any  defined  and  ordinary  form. 

Great  was  the  agitation  of  the  inhabitants,  therefore, 
when  they  beheld  one  of  the  ships  standing  up  the  river ;  but 
when  they  learned  that  she  returned  in  triumph  from  the 
discovery  of  a  world,  the  whole  community  broke  forth  into 
transports  of  joy.  The  bells  were  rung,  the  shops  shut,  all 
business  was  suspended;  foV  a  time  there  was  nothing  but 
hurry  and  tumult.  Some  were  anxious  to  know  the  fate  of 
a  relative,  others  of  a  friend,  and  all  to  learn  the  particulars 
of  so  wonderful  a  voyage.  When  Columbus  landed,  the 
multitude  thronged  to  see  and  welcome  him,  and  a  grand 
procession  was  formed  to  the  principal  church  to  return 
thanks  to  God  for  so  signal  a  discovery  made  by  the  people 
of  that  place, — forgetting,  in  their  exultation,  the  thousand 
difficulties  they  had  thrown  in  the  way  of  the  enterprise. 
Wherever  Columbus  passed,  he  was  hailed  with  shouts  and 
acclamations.  What  a  contrast  to  his  departure  a  few  months 
before,  followed  by  murmurs  and  execrations;  or,  rather, 
what  a  contrast  to  his  first  arrival  at  Palos,  a  poor  pedestrian, 
craving  bread  and  water  for  his  child  at  the  gate  of  a  convent  f 

Understanding  that  the  court  was  at  Barcelona,  he  felt 
disposed  to  proceed  thither  immediately  in  his  caravel.  Re- 
flecting, however,  on  the  dangers  and  disasters  he  had 
already  experienced  on  the  seas,  he  resolved  to  proceed  by 


76  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

land.  He  dispatched  a  letter  to  the  king  and  queen,  in- 
forming them  of  his  arrival,  and  soon  after  departed  for 
Seville  to  await  their  orders,  taking  with  him  six  of  the 
natives  whom  he  had  brought  from  the  New  World.  One  had 
died  at  sea,  and  three  were  left  ill  at  Palos. 

It  is  a  singular  coincidence,  which  appears  to  be  well 
authenticated,  that  on  the  very  evening  of  the  arrival  of 
Columbus  at  Palos,  and  while  the  peals  of  triumph  were 
still  ringing  from  its  towers,  the  Pinta,  commanded  by  Martin 
Alonzo  Pinzon,  likewise  entered  the  river.  After  her  sep- 
aration from  the  admiral  in  the  storm,  she  had  been  driven 
before  the  gale  into  the  Bay.  of  Biscay,  and  had  made  the 
port  of  Bayonne.  Doubting  whether  Columbus  had  survived 
the  tempest,  Pinzon  had  immediately  written  to  the  sov- 
ereigns, giving  information  of  the  discovery  he  had  made, 
and  had  requested  permission  to  come  to  court,  and  com- 
municate the  particulars  in  person.  As  soon  as  the  weather 
permitted,  he  had  again  set  sail,  anticipating  a  triumphant 
reception  in  his  native  port  of  Palos.  When,  on  entering 
the  harbor,  he  beheld  the  vessel  of  the  admiral  riding  at 
anchor,  and  learned  the  enthusiasm  with  which  he  had  been 
received,  the  heart  of  Pinzon  died  within  him.  It  is  said 
that  he  feared  to  meet  Columbus  in  this  hour  of  his  triumph, 
lest  he  should  put  him  under  arrest  for  his  desertion  on 
the  coast  of  Cuba ;  but  he  was  a  man  of  too  much  resolution 
to  indulge  in  such  a  fear.  It  is  more  probable  that  a  con- 
sciousness of  his  misconduct  made  him  unwilling  to  appear 
before  the  public  in  the  midst  of  their  enthusiasm  for  Co- 
lumbus, and  perhaps  he  sickened  at  the  honors  heaped  upon 
a  man  whose  superiority  he  had  been  so  unwilling  to  ac- 
knowledge. Getting  into  his  boat,  therefore,  he  landed  pri- 
vately, and  kept  out  of  sight  until  he  heard  of  the  admiral's 
departure.  He  then  returned  to  his  home,  broken  in  health 
and  deeply  dejected,  considering  all  the  honors  and  eulo- 
giums  heaped  upon  Columbus  as  so  many  reproaches  on 
himself.  The  reply  of  his  sovereigns  to  his  letter  at  length 
arrived.  It  was  of  a  reproachful  tenor,  and  forbade  his 
appearance  at  court.  This  letter  completed  his  humiliation; 
the  anguish  of  his  feelings  gave  virulence  to  his  bodily 
malady,  and  in  a  few  days  he  died,  a  victim  of  deep  chagrin. 

Let  no  one,  however,  indulge  in  harsh  censures  over  the 


RECEPTION    OF   COLUMBUS   AT    PALOS.  77 

grave  of  Pinzon.  His  merits  and  services  are  entitled  to 
the  highest  praise;  his  errors  should  be  regarded  with  in- 
dulgence. He  was  one  of  the  foremost  in  Spain  to  appreciate 
the  project  of  Columbus,  animating  him  by  his  concurrence 
and  aiding  him  with  his  purse  when  poor  and  unknown  at 
Palos.  He  afterward  enabled  him  to  procure  and  fit  out  ships, 
when  even  the  mandates  of  the  sovereigns  were  ineffectual, 
and  finally  embarked  in  the  expedition  with  his  brothers  and 
his  friends,  staking  life,  property,  everything  upon  the  event. 
He  thus  entitled  himself  to  participate  largely  in  the  glory 
of  this  immortal  enterprise;  but  unfortunately,  forgetting 
for  a  moment  the  grandeur  of  the  cause,  and  the  implicit 
obedience  due  to  his  commander,  he  yielded  to  the  incitements 
of  self-interest,  and  committed  the  act  of  insubordination 
which  has  cast  a  shadow  on  his  name.  In  extenuation  of  his 
fault,  however,  may  be  alleged  his  habits  of  command,  which 
rendered  him  impatient  of  control ;  his  consciousness  of  having 
rendered  great  services  to  the  expedition,  and  of  possessing 
property  in  the  ships.  That  he  was  a  man  of  great  pro- 
fessional merit  is  admitted  by  all  his  contemporaries ;  that 
he  naturally  possessed  generous  sentiments  and  an  honorable 
ambition,  is  evident  from  the  poignancy  with  which  he  felt 
the  disgrace  drawn  on  him  by  his  misconduct.  A  mean  man 
would  not  have  fallen  a  victim  to  self-upbraiding  for  having 
been  convicted  of  a  mean  action.  His  story  shows  how 
one  lapse  from  duty  may  counterbalance  the  merits  of  a 
thousand  services,  how  one  moment  of  weakness  may  mar 
the  beauty  of  a  whole  life  of  virtue,  and  how  important  it 
is  for  a  man,  under  all  circumstances,  to  be  true,  not  only 
to  others,  but  to  himself. 


About  the  middle  of  April,  Columbus  arrived  at  Barce- 
lona, where  every  preparation  had  been  made  to  give  him  a 
solemn  and  magnificent  reception.  The  beauty  and  serenity 
of  the  weather  in  that  genial  and  favored  climate  con- 
tributed to  give  splendor  to  this  memorable  ceremony.  As 
he  drew  near  the  place,  many  of  the  youthful  courtiers  and 
hidalgoes,  together  with  a  vast  concourse  of  the  populace, 
came  forth  to  meet  and  welcome  him.  His  entrance  into 
this  city  has  been  compared  to  one  of  those  triumphs  which 


78  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

the  Romans  were  accustomed  to  decree  to  conquerors.  First 
were  paraded  the  Indians,  painted  according  to  their  savage 
fashion,  and  decorated  with  their  national  ornaments  of 
gold.  After  these  were  borne  various  kinds  of  live  parrots, 
together  with  stuffed  birds  and  animals  of  unknown  species, 
and  rare  plants  supposed  to  be  of  precious  qualities,  while 
great  care  was  taken  to  make  a  conspicuous  display  of 
Indian  coronets,  bracelets,  and  other  decorations  of  gold, 
which  might  give  an  idea  of  the  wealth  of  the  newly-dis- 
covered regions.  After  this,  followed  Columbus  on  horseback, 
surrounded  by  a  brilliant  cavalcade  of  Spanish  chivalry.  The 
streets  were  almost  impassable  for  the  countless  multitude; 
the  windows  and  balconies  were  crowded  with  the  fair;  the 
very  roofs  were  covered  with  spectators.  It  seemed  as  if 
the  public  eye  could  not  be  sated  with  gazing  on  these  tro- 
phies of  an  unknown  world,  or  on  the  remarkable  man  by 
whom  it  had  been  discovered.  There  was  a  sublimity  in  this 
event  that  mingled  a  solemn  feeling  with  the  public  joy.  It 
was  looked  upon  as  a  vast  and  signal  dispensation  of  Provi- 
dence, in  reward  for  the  piety  of  the  monarchs;  and  the  ma- 
jestic and  venerable  appearance  of  the  discoveries,  so  dif- 
ferent from  the  youth  and  buoyancy  generally  expected  from 
roving  enterprise,  seemed  in  harmony  with  the  grandeur  and 
the  dignity  of  his  achievement. 

To  receive  him  with  suitable  pomp  and  distinction,  the 
sovereigns  had  ordered  their  throne  to  be  placed  in  publie 
under  a  rich  canopy  of  brocade  of  gold,  in  a  vast  and 
splendid  saloon.  Here  the  King  and  Queen  awaited  his  ar- 
rival, seated  in  state,  with  the  prince  Juan  beside  them,  and 
attended  by  the  dignitaries  of  their  court,  and  the  principal 
nobility  of  Castile,  Valentia,  Catalonia,  and  Aragon,  all 
impatient  to  behold  the  man  who  had  conferred  so  incalcu- 
lable a  benefit  upon  the  nation.  At  length  Columbus  entered 
the  hall,  surrounded  by  a  brilliant  crowd  of  cavaliers,  among 
whom,  says  Las  Casas,  he  was  conspicuous  for  his  stately 
and  commanding  person,  which  with  his  countenance,  ren- 
dered venerable  by  his  gray  hairs,  gave  him  the  august  ap- 
pearance of  a  senator  of  Rome.  A  modest  smile  lighted  up 
his  features,  showing  that  he  enjoyed  the  state  and  glory  in 
which  he  came;  and  certainly  nothing  could  be  more  deeply 
moving  to  a  mind  inflamed  by  noble  ambition,  and  conscious 


RECEPTION    OF   COLUMBUS   AT    PALOS.  79 

of  having  greatly  deserved,  than  these  testimonials  of  the 
admiration  and  gratitude  of  a  nation,  or  rather  of  a  world. 
As  Columbus  approached,  the  sovereigns  rose,  as  if  receiving 
a  person  of  the  highest  rank.  Bending  his  knees,  he  offered 
to  kiss  their  hands;  but  there  was  some  hesitation  on  their 
part  to  permit  this  act  of  homage.  Raising  him  in  the  most 
gracious  manner,  they  ordered  him  to  seat  himself  in  their 
presence,  a  rare  honor  in  this  proud  and  punctilious  court. 

At  their  request,  he  now  gave  an  account  of  the  most 
striking  events  of  his  voyage,  and  a  description  of  the  islands 
discovered.  He  displayed  specimens  of  unknown  birds  and 
other  animals;  of  rare  plants  of  medicinal  and  aromatic 
virtues;  of  native  gold  in  dust,  in  crude  masses,  or  labored 
into  barbaric  ornaments;  and,  above  all,  the  natives  of  these 
countries,  who  were  objects  of  intense  and  inexhaustible 
interest.  All  these  he  pronounced  mere  harbingers  of  greater 
discoveries  yet  to  be  made,  which  would  add  realms  of  in- 
calculable wealth  to  the  dominions  of  their  majesties,  and 
whole  nations  of  proselytes  to  the  true  faith. 

When  he  had  finished,  the  sovereigns  sank  on  their  knees, 
and  raising  their  clasped  hands  to  heaven,  their  eyes  filled 
with  tears  of  joy  and  gratitude,  poured  forth  thanks  and 
praise  to  God  for  so  great  a  providence.  All  present  followed 
their  example;  a  deep  and  solemn  enthusiasm  pervaded  that 
splendid  assembly,  and  prevented  all  common  acclamations 
of  triumph.  The  anthem  Te  Deum  laudamus,  chanted  by  the 
choir  of  the  royal  chapel,  with  the  accompaniment  of  in- 
struments, rose  in  a  full  body  of  sacred  harmony,  bearing  up, 
as  it  were,  the  feelings  and  thoughts  of  the  auditors  to  heaven, 
"  so  that,"  says  the  venerable  Las  Casas,  "  it  seemed  as  if 
in  that  hour  they  communicated  with  celestial  delights." 
Such  was  the  solemn  and  pious  manner  in  which  the  brilliant 
court  of  Spain  celebrated  this  sublime  event,  offering  up  a 
grateful  tribute  of  melody  and  praise,  and  giving  glory  to 
God  for  the  discovery  of  another  world. 

When  Columbus  retired  from  the  royal  presence,  he  was 
attended  to  his  residence  by  all  the  court,  and  followed  by  the 
shouting  populace.  For  many  days  he  was  the  object  of  uni- 
versal curiosity,  and  wherever  he  appeared,  was  surrounded 
by  an  admiring  multitude. 


80  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

Martin  Luther. 

Sommer's  Luther  Album. 

"  Great  men  need  not  that  we  praise  them ;  the  need  is  ours 
that  we  know  them.  They  are  our  common  heritage.  Whether 
we  be  of  their  faith  or  another,  whether  our  fathers  fought  with 
them  or  with  their  enemies,  whether  we  stand  where  they  stood, 
or  have  traveled  on  far  on  ways  they  dreamed  not  of,  we  are 
the  richer  that  they  lived." 

Not  to  know  Luther  and  his  work  is  to  be  ignorant  of  the 
most  influential  man  and  the  most  stupendous  changes  that  have 
effected  our  surroundings  and  conditions  within  the  last  thou- 
sand years;  not  to  know  Luther  and  his  work  is  to  go  through 
life  burdened  with  a  limit  of  vision  which  amounts  to  a  curse. 

On  the  other  hand,  no  one  can  study  Luther  and  his  times 
without  having  a  new  light  given  him  in  which  to  behold  the 
affairs,  conditions,  and  men  of  our  own  day.  Let  no  one,  there- 
fore, be  satisfied  to  read  this  short  extract  from  the  life  of  this 
great  man.  It  should  rather  be  a  morsel  to  whet  the  appetite 
for  learning  more  of  that  personage  and  those  unparalled  up- 
heavals which  transformed  the  whole  society  of  Europe. 

A  young  man  or  woman  who  wishes  to  have  an  intelligent 
insight  into  the  complex  causes  which  led  up  to  the  most  inter- 
esting situation  in  the  affairs  of  Europe,  and  who  wishes  to  gain 
a  clear  view  of  a  truly  great  man,  permitted  of  God  to  act  the 
part  for  which  he  had  been  fitted,  will  not  bestow  too  much  time 
upon  this  matter  if  they  devote  the  leisure  of  one  entire  winter 
to  research  study  of  the  period  of  the  Reformation. 

Koestlin's  Life  of  Luther  is  the  authentic  work  in  German, 
but  the  English  translation  is  rather  faulty;  we  have  therefore 
quoted  another  work  which  essentially  covers  the  same  ground, 
at  least  of  that  period  of  which  we  speak. 

God  chose  that  man  Luther  to  reform  the  abuses  of  Popery, 
for  by  God's  providence  and  help  Luther  succeeded  in  forcing  the 
Pope  into  a  position  where  he  could  not  entirely  prevent  the 
preaching  of  God's  Word. 

THE  HERO  AT  THE  DIET. 

Few  rulers  of  unknown  character  and  aims  have  ever 
been  welcomed  and  greeted  with  more  joyous  and  hopeful 
anticipations  than  Charles  V,  and — scarcely  ever  have  such 
anticipations  been  more  cruelly  disappointed.  He  had  been 
elected  German  Emperor  because  the  Germans  expected 
the  grandson  of  Maximilian  I  to  take  a  hearty  interest  in 
German  affairs;  but  Charles  could  not  speak  German,  and 
was  much  more  interested  in  his  kingdom  of  Spain  than  in 
anything  pertaining  to  Germany.  He  cared  very  little  and 
understood  still  less  of  the  religious  controversy  which  agi- 
tated the  German  people.  Born  of  a  melancholy  mother  who 


MARTIN    LUTHER.  81 

finally  died  insane,  he  was  himself  of  a  gloomy  disposition. 
This  inherited  moroseness  had  been  further  nurtured  by  the 
severe,  monkish,  and  dark  Romanism  in  which  he  had  been 
reared,  turning  him  away  from  that  very  Gospel  which 
brings  us  joy  and  gladness.  Although  the  "  new  doctrine  " 
had  been  described  to  him  as  inimical  to  the  government, 
his  political  shrewdness  prevented  the  young  man  from  serv- 
ing the  Pope  as  a  willing  tool.  There  might  be  a  possibility 
of  utilizing  this  anti-Rome  movement  in  checking  the  Pope's 
tyranny,  which  was  felt  even  by  emperors ;  and  then,  Charles 
had  to  be  careful  not  to  offend  those  of  the  German  princes 
who  favored  Luther,  especially  the  influential  Frederick  the 
Wise. 

This  thoughtful  Frederick  the  Wise  requested  the  Em- 
peror to  hear  Luther's  answer  to  his  accusers  before  taking 
any  measure  against  him.  Charles  thereupon  suggested  that 
he  bring  Luther  with  him  to  the  next  diet.  Luther  was 
consulted  and  answered  Spalatin,  the  court-chaplain  and 
private  secretary  of  the  Elector,  through  whom  such  busi- 
ness between  Luther  and  the  Elector  was  carried  on :  "  If 
I  am  called,  I  shall,  as  far  as  I  am  concerned,  go  there  sick 
if  I  cannot  go  there  well,  for  I  dare  not  doubt  that  God 
calls  me  when  my  emperor  calls.  But  if  they  are  going  to 
use  force  upon  me,  as  is  probable, — for  they  certainly  do 
not  call  me  to  be  instructed, — we  commend  the  whole  matter 
to  God.  For  He  still  lives  and  reigns  who  preserved  the 
three  youths  in  the  furnace  of  the  Babylonian  king.  But 
if  He  will  not  preserve  me,  my  head  after  all  is  of  small 
importance  compared  to  Christ  who  was  killed  so  shame- 
fully, an  offense  to  all  and  the  ruin  of  many.  For  in  such 
a  case  as  this  we  dare  not  consider  our  danger  or  welfare, 
but  rather  have  a  care  lest  we  cease  preaching  the  Gospel 
which  we  have  brought  forth  again,  and  thus  become  the 
laughing-stock  of  the  ungodly,  or  lest  our  opponents  have 
occasion  to  boast  against  us  that  we  have  not  the  heart  to 
confess  what  we  have  taught,  and  fear  to  shed  our  blood  for 
it.  May  the  merciful  Savior  preserve  us  from  such  cowardice 
and  them  from  such  boasting. — This  is  my  counsel  and 
opinion.  You  may  expect  everything  of  me  save  flight  or 
recantation.  I  will  not  flee,  much  less  will  I  recant.  May 
the  Lord  Jesus  strengthen  me  f  * 


82  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

That  was  Luther's  bold  answer,  written  December  21, 
1520.  The  papal  party  dreaded  his  coming  to  the  Diet  at 
Worms,  fearing  that  he  would  there  gain  new  adherents  for 
his  cause.  The  papal  legate  Aleander  therefore  demanded 
of  the  Emperor  that  he  execute  Luther,  since  the  Pope  had 
excommunicated  him.  "  The  language  of  Luther,"  said  he, 
"  is  cause  enough  for  the  burning  of  one  hundred  thousand 
heretics."  To  the  German  people  he  said :  "  Even  though 
you  Germans,  who  are  paying  the  least  money  to  the  Pope, 
shake  off  the  yoke  of  Roman  supremacy,  we  will  nevertheless 
see  to  it  that  you  kill  one  another  and  perish  in  your  own 
blood."  History  has  sufficiently  demonstrated  the  cruel 
earnestness  of  this  threat ! 

In  spite  of  this,  however,  the  Elector  Frederick  suc- 
ceeded in  having  Luther  invited  to  appear  before  the  Diet. 
On  March  26,  1521,  the  imperial  herald,  Caspar  Storm, 
arrived  at  Wittenberg  with  the  official  summons.  This 
document  cited  Luther  to  appear  within  21  days  before  the 
Emperor,  and  guaranteed  safe  conduct.  Papal  agents  had 
been  busy  to  prevent  a  public  discussion  with  Luther  at  the 
Diet.  He  was  simply  to  be  called  upon  to  recant.  If  he 
acceded  to  this  wish,  an  adjustment  of  his  difficulties  might 
follow,  but  if  he  continued  to  oppose  the  teaching  of  the 
Church,  he  was  to  be  treated  with  utmost  severity  as  a 
heretic.  Had  this  plan  carried,  Luther's  visit  to  Worms 
would  have  utterly  failed  of  its  purpose,  for  Luther,  lover 
of  the  truth  that  he  was,  wished  above  all  things  for  an 
opportunity  publicly,  before  the  assembled  estates,  to  bear 
witness  to  the  truth  of  God's  holy  Word,  which  he  had 
defended. 

On  the  Wednesday  after  Easter,  April  3,  Luther  set  out 
for  Worms.  The  town-council  of  Wittenberg  provided  the 
horses  for  the  journey.  The  herald  traveled  in  advance, 
then  came  Luther's  wagon,  occupied  by  the  Reformer, 
Amsdorf,  a  Pommeranian  nobleman,  and  an  Augustinian 
monk.  Many  shed  tears  as  they  saw  the  faithful  man,  from 
whose  lips  they  had  heard  the  blessed  Gospel,  leave  the  town. 
Would  they  ever  see  him  again?  Would  they  ever  hear 
him  again  proclaim  the  Word  of  Truth?  The  journey  was 
a  veritable  triumphal  procession.  No  one  seemed  to  con- 
sider Luther  an  excommunicated  monk;  nay,  the  citizens 


MARTIN    LUTHER.  83 

rather  greeted  him  as  the  beloved  deliverer  and  the  heroic 
defender  of  his  people.  Everywhere  they  flocked  together 
to  see  and  hail  the  brave  confessor,  the  German  champion 
of  the  truth.  In  Leipzig  the  town-council  entertained  him 
in  the  customary  honorable  manner.  On  Saturday,  April  6, 
he  arrived  at  Erfurt.  Here  the  university  had  prepared  to 
receive  him  with  every  mark  of  honor  and  esteem.  He  was 
led  in  a  brilliant  procession,  accompanied  by  many  horsemen, 
into  the  city.  Slowly  he  rode  up  to  the  very  portal  of  that 
Augustinian  cloister  through  which  he  had  stepped  for  the 
first  time  16  years  ago.  At  a  festive  gathering,  arranged  in 
his  honor,  the  professors  of  the  university  congratulated  him 
upon  his  blessed  undertaking,  and  encouraged  him  to  con- 
tinue. On  the  next  day  to  an  overflowing  audience  he 
preached  that  very  Gospel  of  God's  love  which  the  Pope 
indeed  condemned,  but  which  all  Christians  love.  Then  he 
traveled  on.  At  Gotha  he  preached  to  a  multitude,  and  again 
at  the  foot  of  the  Wartburg,  at  Eisenach.  At  this  place  he 
was  taken  ill.  After  some  treatment  he  could  proceed,  but 
he  felt  an  indisposition  which  was  new  to  him.  Afterward 
Luther  was  often  troubled  with  bodily  infirmities.  As  he 
drew  near  to  Worms,  he  frequently  noticed  posted  up  an 
edict  of  the  Emperor,  calling  upon  every  one  to  surrender 
the  "  condemned  "  writings  of  Luther.  The  imperial  herald, 
concerned  for  his  safety,  asked  whether  he  would  not  rather 
turn  back;  but  Luther  declared  that  Christ  is  still  living, 
and  he  would  enter  Worms  in  defiance  of  all  "  the  gates  of 
hell "  and  of  "  the  Prince  of  the  power  of  the  air."  Finally, 
the  enemies  of  Luther  had  invented  still  another  plan  to 
keep  him  away  from  the  Diet.  They  had  succeeded  some- 
how in  inducing  Sickingen  to  invite  Luther  to  visit  him  at 
his  castle  of  Ebernburg,  in  order  to  avoid  great  danger. 
If  Luther  had  accepted  this  invitation,  he  would  have  ex- 
ceeded the  limit  of  the  safe-conduct,  lost  the  imperial  pro- 
tection, and  thus,  himself,  made  his  appearance  at  the  Diet 
an  impossibility.  But  Luther  knew  what  he  wanted  to  do; 
he  declined  the  invitation,  and  proceeded  toward  Worms. 
Before  its  very  gates  Spalatin  once  more  warned  him  of 
the  danger  that  awaited  him,  but  the  hero  boldly  declared: 
"  Though  there  be  as  many  devils  in  Worms  as  there  are 


84  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

tiles  upon  the  roofs,  I  will  enter  it !  "  And  he  recalled  that 
the  death  of  John  Huss  was  not  the  death  of  the  truth. 

Aleander  could  not  hide  his  chagrin,  when  he  saw  that 
Luther  was  not  to  be  kept  away  from  Worms.  He  threat- 
ened to  call  up  princes  and  peoples  to  destroy  Luther  after 
the  latter's  return  to  Wittenberg.  He  sometimes  doubted 
that  the  damage  could  ever  be  remedied,  so  boldly  did 
Frederick  the  Wise  stand  up  for  the  cause  of  Luther,  and 
so  quickly  did  this  cause  win  adherents.  He  urged  that 
Luther  be  brought  into  the  city  very  quietly,  and  that  he  be 
given  a  room  in  the  imperial  palace,  so  that  as  few  as  pos- 
sible might  meet  him. 

But  all  his  efforts  proved  in  vain.  Though  some  think 
that  Luther's  entrance  had  purposely  been  arranged  for  ten 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  at  which  time  the  people  then  took 
their  midday  meal,  yet,  when  the  watchman  upon  the  spire 
of  the  cathedral  gave  the  signal  announcing  the  approach 
of  the  cavalcade,  the  streets  were  soon  filled  with  a  surging 
mass  of  humanity.  A  number  of  noblemen  and  notable  men 
had  mounted  their  horses  and  had  sallied  forth  to  meet 
Luther,  and  these  now  led  the  bold  Reformer  in  a  grand 
procession  into  the  city.  The  whole  city  seemed  to  have 
turned  out  to  see  Luther  enter.  Every  one  wanted  to  be- 
hold the  brave  man  who  was  willing  to  defy  the  Pope  and 
to  confess  his  faith  before  the  Emperor  and  the  entire  Diet. 
Compared  to  this  reception  and  greeting,  that  accorded  the 
papal  legate,  yea,  even  that  extended  to  the  Emperor  dwindled 
into  insignificance.  A  vast  multitude  surrounded  the  car- 
riage in  which  Luther  sat  composed,  confident,  and  joyful. 
A  brilliant  parade  of  cavalry,  headed  by  the  imperial  herald 
and  his  aid,  accompanies  him.  As  a  mighty  chief  among  his 
people  this  plain  monk  is  accorded  almost  a  triumphal  entry, 
the  procession  is  scarcely  able  at  times  to  proceed  through 
this  throng  of  people.  At  the  inn  of  the  Knights  of  St. 
John,  Luther  is  to  occupy  rooms  prepared  for  him.  He 
steps  from  his  wagon,  uttering  the  words  that  express  his 
heart's  sincere  sentiment,  "  God  will  be  with  me."  And 
now  the  house  is  filled  with  those  who  go  and  come  to  see 
and  consult  the  courageous  monk ;  counts,  noblemen,  knights, 
and  priests  conversed  with  him  till  a  late  hour. 

Everything  was  now  prepared  for  the  decisive  moment, 


MARTIN    LUTHER.  85 

Emperor  and  Pope  were  in  league,  the  temporal  and  spiritual 
powers  had  joined  forces  to  oppose — one  poor,  plain  man ; 
but  in  that  man  beat  a  heart  strong  in  its  trust  in  the  living 
God  and  in  His  Word. — It  was  the  dawn  of  a  new  era, 
through  the  darkness  and  clouds  of  superstition  began  to 
break  the  golden  sunlight  of  saving  truth. 

THE  CLIMAX. 

The  city  was  crowded  to  its  utmost  capacity.  About  80 
princes  with  their  retinue,  130  counts,  15  ambassadors,  in- 
cluding those  of  England  and  France,  imperial  generals  and 
the  highest  officials  of  state,  many  representatives  of  cities, 
innumerable  knights,  cavalry  officers,  and  noblemen  had  gath- 
ered in  the  town  according  to  the  report  of  one  of  those 
present,  who  writes :  "  Also  excellent  merchants  from  Spain, 
from  the  Netherlands,  from  Italy,  and  from  German  coun- 
tries; there  is  such  an  amazingly  great  display  and  bril- 
liancy of  German,  Spanish,  and  foreign  lords,  also  of 
prancing,  high-spirited  horses,  that  I  am  not  able  to  de- 
scribe it." 

The  Diet  assembled  in  the  palace  of  the  Bishop,  where 
also  the  Emperor  resided  during  his  stay  in  Worms.  On  the 
forenoon  of  April  17,  the  imperial  court-marshal,  Ulrich  von 
Pappenheim,  summoned  Luther  to  appear  before  the  Diet  at 
4  o'clock  that  afternoon.  The  rumor  of  this  soon  spread 
through  the  whole  city.  The  streets  leading  from  Luther's 
lodgings  to  the  episcopal  palace  were  soon  filled  with  a  dense 
crowd.  Luther's  escorts,  Pappenheim  and  Storm,  had  diffi- 
culty to  bring  Luther  even  through  gardens  and  byways,  for 
the  multitude  flocked  even  to  these  when  they  heard  of  their 
route;  the  very  roofs  were  alive  with  those  who  wanted  to 
see  Luther.  After  reaching  the  palace,  he  had  to  wait  two 
hours  before  he  was  admitted  into  the  hall  of  the  assembled 
Diet.  At  last  he  is  told  that  he  may  come,  and  now  into  the 
brilliant  assembly  steps  the  pale  monk,  fearless,  trusting  God. 
A  heavy  mailed  hand  touches  his  shoulders.  It  is  George  von 
Frundsberg,  a  noted  captain  of  infantry,  who  has  led  many  a 
brilliant  charge  amid  the  roar  of  battle.  He  loves  a  brave 
man,  soldier  or  scholar.  He  looks  at  Luther  with  an  admir- 
ing glance  and  addresses  him :  "  My  dear  monk,  this  moment 
you  are  advancing  to  take  a  position  the  like  of  which  I  and 


86  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

many  another  captain  have  never  undertaken  in  our  most 
desperate  encounters ;  but  if  you  are  sincere  and  satisfied  that 
you  are  defending  a  good  cause,  then  proceed  in  the  name  of 
God  and  be  of  good  cheer ;  God  will  not  forsake  you."  With- 
out question  Luther  appreciated  these  encouraging  words  of 
the  old  pious  soldier  at  this  important  moment. 

The  doors  of  the  assembly  hall  are  thrown  open;  Luther 
is  standing  in  the  presence  of  the  Emperor  and  of  the  Diet 
in  solemn  gathering.  The  supreme  moment  has  arrived.  It 
is  a  brilliant  vision  which  Luther  beholds.  Upon  a  rich  and 
gorgeous  throne  sits  that  Emperor  in  whose  realm  the  sun 
never  sets,  Charles  V,  upon  elevated  chairs  are  seated  the 
six  electors  of  the  empire,  with  them  are  assembled  the  chief 
princes  of  Germany,  the  representatives  of  the  free  cities,  the 
bishops,  abbots,  in  short,  all  of  any  authority  in  German  ter- 
ritory. There  is  noticeable  excitement  as  the  bold  monk  steps 
among  them.  This  is  the  man  who  defies  a  world  of  power ! 
John  Eck,  the  official  of  the  Archbishop  of  Treves,  pointing 
to  a  stack  of  books,  asked  Luther  whether  he  recognized 
these  books  to  be  his  own  writings,  and  whether  he  would 
retract  their  contents.  This  question  was  put  in  the  Latin 
and  in  the  German  language.  Jerome  Schurf,  Luther's  legal 
adviser,  demanded  that  the  titles  of  the  books  be  read.  This 
was  done,  and  it  now  appeared  that  the  papal  legate,  Alean- 
der,  who  had  brought  these  books  into  the  hall,  had  included 
also  devotional  writings  of  Luther.  Luther  acknowledged 
that  these  were  his  own  writings.  He  is  urged  to  decide 
whether  he  will  recant.  He  frankly  states:  "This  question 
concerns  faith  and  the  Word  of  God,  which  is  of  more  im- 
portance than  all  else  in  heaven  and  on  earth.  Therefore  I 
beg  your  Imperial  Majesty  most  humbly  and  submissively  to 
grant  me  time  for  reflection,  in  order  that  I  may  without  dis- 
loyalty to  the  Word  of  God  and  without  danger  to  my  soul's 
salvation  answer  the  questions  correctly."  Luther  did  not 
request  this  delay  because  of  any  fear,  but  mindful  of  his 
main  purpose;  he,  above  all,  wished  for  an  opportunity  to 
speak  out  freely,  and,  at  length,  to  bear  testimony  of  the 
faith  and  teaching  which  he  had  proclaimed.  This  he  hoped 
to  accomplish  by  his  answer,  and  he  was  not  disappointed. 
Twenty-four  hours  were  granted  him  for  reflection,  and  he 
made  most  faithful  use  of  this  time.  He  took  the  whole 


MARTIN    LUTHER.  87 

matter  to  God  in  prayer.  Most  likely  it  was  in  that  very 
night  that  he  prayed  aloud  in  his  chamber :  "  Almighty, 
eternal  God,  what  a  world  this  is !  How  the  people  do  stare 
and  gape  at  it !  How  little  and  scant  is  men's  trust  in  God ! 
How  weak  and  tender  is  the  flesh,  and  how  powerful  is  Satan, 
how  active  through  his  apostles  and  worldly-wise  agents ! 
How  quick  she  is  to  let  go,  rattles  away,  runs  the  trodden 
path  and  the  broad  road  to  hell,  where  the  ungodly  belong, 
and  only  admires  what  is  brilliant  and  powerful,  great  and 
mighty,  and  what  appears  to  have  prestige  and  reputation. 
If  I  am  also  to  direct  my  eyes  thither,  then  I  am  done  for, 
the  bell  is  cast,  and  sentence  already  pronounced.  O  God, 

0  Lord,  O  Thou  my  God !    Thou  my  God,  help  me  against 
all  reason  and  wisdom  of  this  world !  Do  Thou  it ;  Thou  must 
do  it,  Thou  alone.    For  it  is  surely  not  my,  but  Thy  cause. 
Surely,  as  for  me  personally,  I  have  no  business  here  and  no 
dealings  with  these  great  lords  of  the  world.     I  certainly 
would  also  enjoy  good,  easy  days  and  be  rid  of  all  worry. 
But  Thine,  dear  Lord,  is  this  righteous  and  eternal  cause. 
Support  me,  Thou  faithful,  eternal  God !    I  put  confidence  in 
no  man.    It  is  all  in  vain ;  faulty  and  lame  is  everything  that 
is  flesh  and  tastes  of  flesh.     God,  O  God !    Dost  Thou  not 
hear,  my  God?    Art  Thou  dead?     No,  Thou  canst  not  die, 
Thou  only  hidest  Thyself!    Hast  Thou  chosen  me  for  this? 

1  ask  Thee,  for  certainly  I  know  it ;  well,  then,  God  grant  it ! 
For,  in  all  my  life,  I  never  thought  to  be  against  such  great 
lords,  I  never  understand  it  either.    Well,  then,  God,  sustain 
me  in  the  name  of  Thy  dear  Son  Jesus  Christ,  who  shall  be 
to  me  my  protection  and  my  defense,  aye,  my  strong  tower, 
through  the  power  and  help  of  Thy  Holy  Spirit.   Lord,  where 
shall  I  find  Thee?    Thou,  my  God,  where  art  Thou?    Come, 
come,  I  am  ready  to  lay  down  my  very  life,  patiently,  as  a 
little  lamb.    For  righteous  is  the  cause,  and  it  is  Thine  own ; 
and  I  will  not  separate  myself  from  Thee  for  all  eternity. 
That  shall  now  be  decided  in  Thy  name.    The  world  shall  not 
force  my  conscience,  and  though  she  be  full  of  devils  and 
even  though  my  body,  which  is  certainly  first  of  all  the  work 
and  creation  of  Thy  hands,  go  to  wrack  and  ruin,  aye,  to  very 
fragments  on  account  of  it,  but  Thy  Word  and  Spirit  shall 
bless  me  the  more.    And  it's  only  a  matter  of  the  body ;   the 
soul  is  Thine  and  belongs  to  Thee,  and  shall  also  remain 


88  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

Thine  for  all  eternity.  Amen.  God  help  me  !  Amen."  Thus 
did  Luther  pray,  and  thus  he  only  can  pray  who  is  sure  of 
his  faith  and  confidently  waits  for  God's  help. 

The  next  day,  Thursday,  April  18,  about  six  in  the  even- 
ing, the  twilight  beginning  to  fall,  Luther  stood  once  more 
before  the  Diet  in  the  brilliantly  illuminated  assembly  hall. 
A  dense  multitude  filled  the  corridors.  Eck  asked  him :  "  Do 
you  defend  all  those  books  which  you  have  acknowledged  to 
be  yours,  or  will  you  retract  anything  ?  "  Luther,  raising  his 
voice  sufficiently  to  be  heard  in  the  entire  hall,  delivered  his 
celebrated  and  historic  answer,  first  in  Latin,  and  then,  upon 
request,  though  speaking  had  wearied  and  warmed  him  some- 
what, also  in  German.  In  his  answer  Luther  classified  his 
writings  under  three  heads.  As  books  of  the  first  class  he 
mentioned  those  in  which  he  had  proclaimed  Gospel  truth, 
treating  therein  of  faith  and  morals;  these  are  useful  to 
friends  and  foes  of  the  Church  alike;  he  could  not  recant 
them.  In  the  second  class  were  his  polemical  writings,  in 
which  he  had  attacked  the  false  teachings  of  popery  "  by 
which  the  souls  of  Christians  were  miserably  tortured." 
These  also  he  could  not  recant,  otherwise  he  would  "  him- 
self become  a  cloak  for  tyranny  and  wickedness."  The  third 
class  of  his  books  were  written  against  individuals  who  had 
undertaken  "  to  defend  Roman  tyranny  and  to  extinguish 
the  truth."  Even  though  in  these  he  might  have  spoken  at 
times  with  more  than  seemly  severity,  yet  he  could  not  re- 
cant them  either,  because  he  would  thus  encourage  tyranny 
and  ungodliness.  By  quoting  finally  the  words  of  Jesus: 
"  If  I  have  spoken  evil,  bear  witness  of  the  evil,"  Luther 
made  one  more  attempt  to  get  his  opponents  to  examine  with 
him  the  truth  of  his  claims.  But  they  would  not.  Eck  told 
him  that  his  teachings  were  long  since  condemned,  that  there 
was  therefore  no  need  of  any  further  discussion,  and  de- 
manded that  he  give  a  clear,  brief,  and  unmistakable  answer. 
Then  Luther  said :  "  Since  your  Imperial  Majesty  and  your 
Grace  desire  a  plain,  definite  answer,  I  will  give  you  this  one 
that  hath  neither  horns  nor  teeth:  Unless  I  am  convinced 
by  the  testimony  of  the  Scripture  or  by  clear,  cogent  argu- 
ments (for  I  believe  neither  the  Pope  nor  the  Councils  alone, 
since  it  is  manifest  that  they  have  often  erred  and  contra- 
dicted themselves),  and  because  I  am  convinced  by  the 


MARTIN    LUTHER.  89 

Scripture  quoted  by  me,  and  my  conscience  is  constrained  by 
the  Word  of  God,  I  can  recant  nothing  and  will  recant  noth- 
ing; for  to  do  anything  against  the  witness  of  conscience  is 
unsafe  and  dangerous." 

Again  he  was  asked  whether  he  would  continue  to  main- 
tain that  church  councils  had  erred.  He  answered :  "  Church 
councils  may  err  and  have  erred,  that  is  manifest,  and  I  am 
willing  to  prove  it."  About  this  time  there  was  some  con- 
fusion and  noise  in  the  hall,  wherefore  all  did  not  hear  the 
heroic  words  spoken  by  Luther  in  conclusion :  "  Here  I 
stand,  I  cannot  do  otherwise,  God  help  me !  Amen." 

The  sounds  of  these  heroic  words  had  scarcely  died  away, 
when  the  Emperor  arose  from  his  throne,  he  dismissed  the 
assembly,  his  mind  was  made  up.  There  was  the  usual  dis- 
order and  noise  of  a  meeting  breaking  up.  Some  of  the 
Spaniards  sneered  at  Luther,  but  his  friends  gathered  about 
him  to  protect  and  thank  him.  Even  of  his  opponents  some 
expressed  their  admiration  for  his  courage  and  valor.  Armed 
men,  detailed  to  act  as  a  body  guard,  led  him  out.  It  is  the 
conqueror  who  leaves  the  battlefield  after  a  great  spiritual 
fight. 

"  I  am  through,  I  am  through,"  Luther  exultingly  ex- 
claimed when  he  entered  his  room  about  eight  o'clock. 
While  passing  through  the  courtyard  of  the  episcopal  palace, 
he  was  refreshed  by  some  beer  sent  him  in  a  silver  tankard 
by  Duke  Eric  of  Brunswick.  All  evening  Luther's  room  in 
the  inn  of  the  Knights  of  St.  John  was  filled  with  visitors. 
There  were  so  many  who  wished  to  look  and  look  again  upon 
the  face  of  that  man  who  had  dared  to  step  into  the  cruel 
tyrant's  path  and  call  a  halt !  Luther  felt  that  he  stood  not 
alone.  "Wherever  that  monk  walks  upon  the  streets,  there 
is  a  crowd  of  people  to  gaze  at  him,  and  there  is  much  noise 
and  talking  of  him,"  writes  a  councilor  of  Nuremberg  in  a 
letter  to  his  family  at  home. 

His  steadfastness  before  the  Diet  Luther  considered  a 
gift  of  God  and  another  proof  of  the  truthfulness  of  his 
doctrine.  "  Rather  than  retract  I  would  sooner  lose  a  thou- 
sand heads  if  I  had  them,"  he  said  to  his  friends.  There  was 
no  lack  of  encouraging  communications,  written  and  oral. 
The  Landgrave  Philip  of  Hesse  visited  him.  Till  then  this 
prince  had  opposed  Luther's  teaching,  but  the  clear,  bold 


90  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

testimony  of  the  Reformer  won  his  heart,  and  he  became  an 
ardent  confessor  of  evangelical  truth.  On  that  very  day  also 
Frederick  the  Wise  said  to  Spalatin :  "  A  very  able  address 
indeed  did  the  Father,  Dr.  Martin,  deliver  before  the  Em- 
peror and  the  representatives  of  the  empire,  and  that  both  in 
Latin  and  German.  To  me  he  appeared  almost  too  bold." 

The  Emperor  and  the  papal  party  now  thought  that 
Luther's  cause  was  decided  and  his  fate  sealed.  The  papists 
even  tried  to  convince  the  Emperor  that  he  need  not  keep  his 
promise  to  grant  Luther  safe-conduct  home ;  but  this  attempt 
to  raise  the  authority  of  the  Pope  above  that  of  the  Emperor 
failed.  Charles  V  had  decided  that  Luther  was  to  be  safely 
conducted  to  his  home,  but  that  then  the  consequences  of  his 
stubbornness  should  overtake  him,  he  was  to  be  dealt  with 
as  an  excommunicated  outlaw,  cursed  by  the  Church,  and 
given  up  to  violence  of  whomsoever  by  the  government.  The 
assembled  representatives,  however,  arranged  to  have  a  com- 
mittee deal  with  Luther.  The  Elector  and  Archbishop  of 
Treves,  a  kindly  disposed  man,  was  given  charge  of  these 
negotiations.  He  tried  in  a  friendly  manner  to  pacify  Luther, 
and  win  him  for  the  course  that  promised  a  peaceable  set- 
tlement. Those  were  painful  and  dangerous  hours  for 
Luther.  He  prayed  much  and  fervently  for  strength  and 
guidance.  A  firm  stand  meant  warfare,  yielding  meant  out- 
ward peace.  But  God  gave  him  the  victory.  Luther  re- 
mained steadfast.  He  demanded  to  be  shown  from  the  Bible 
if  he  had  uttered  errors.  Several  meetings  were  held,  but 
Luther  said :  "  I  cannot  yield ;  God  may  deal  with  me  as  He 
will." 

On  the  evening  of  the  25th  of  April  he  was  assured  again 
of  safe-conduct  for  21  days  more,  but  also  notified  that  he 
was  now  to  leave  Worms  and  return  to  "  his  own  place," 
and  not  to  preach  on  the  way.  Luther  thanked  the  Emperor 
for  faithful  performance  of  his  promise  of  safe-conduct, 
assured  him  of  his  obedience  as  a  subject,  but  reserved  for 
himself  the  right  to  speak  and  write  God's  Word. 

A  VOLUNTARY  PRISONER. 

Luther  knew  that  he  would  not  reach  Wittenberg.  On 
the  evening  before  his  departure  from  Worms  he  had  been 
informed  of  a  plan  of  the  Saxon  court  to  take  him  prisoner 


MARTIN    LUTHER.  91 

and  have  him  disappear.  The  Elector  and  his  brother,  Duke 
John,  were  not  to  know  the  details  in  order  to  be  able  to 
deny  knowledge  of  Luther's  whereabouts.  The  electoral 
councilors  had  charge  of  the  arrangements. 

On  the  morning  of  April  26  Luther  leaves  Worms  in 
the  same  carriage  which  had  carried  him  thither,  and  a 
cheering  multitude  accompanies  him  to  the  gate  of  the  city. 
The  loyal  hero  of  faith  leaves  the  battle-field.  The  Pope  has 
cursed  him,  proscription  shall  soon  overtake  him,  but  what 
is  all  that  to  him?  God  is  his  refuge  and  strength.  As 
soon  as  the  gate  of  the  city  closes  behind  him,  a  troop  of 
horsemen  surround  him  to  protect  him  against  surprise  or 
attack.  Through  Frankfurt  on  the  Main,  Hersfeld,  Eisenach, 
he  journeys  homeward.  Wherever  Luther  appears,  the 
people  throng  about  him  and  listen  to  his  sermon.  Spring- 
time had  come  to  Germany,  new  spiritual  life  was  springing 
forth  out  of  the  ice  and  snow  of  dead  works  and  false  doc- 
trine of  the  Church;  the  Word  of  God  in  its  whole  clear- 
ness and  simplicity  instilled  life  into  the  spirits  of  men. 
True,  Luther  had  been  forbidden  to  preach,  but  he  was 
not  going  to  have  God's  Word  prohibited,  and  when  people 
clamored  so  loudly  for  the  Word,  he  could  not  keep  silent. 
In  Friedberg  he  wrote  another  letter  to  the  Emperor  and 
to  the  representatives,  in  which  he  offers  to  submit  his  teach- 
ing to  able  men  and  to  recant,  if  he  is  convinced  of  error 
from  Holy  Scripture.  "  In  matters  pertaining  to  God  and 
eternity,  God  will  not  suffer  us  to  submit  to  man,  or  to  let 
another  decide  them  for  us,  but  we  must  submit  these  things 
to  God  only. — God's  Word  alone,  that  holy,  free,  pure,  and 
clear  Word,  shall  reign  supreme  and  remain  the  judge  of  all 
men.  That  is  due  justice,  no  more." 

In  Eisenach  Luther  separated  from  his  friends;  none 
but  Amsdorf  and  an  Augustinian  monk  from  Wittenberg 
remain  with  him.  The  imperial  herald  had  been  dismissed 
by  him  at  Friedberg  with  the  letter  addressed  to  the  Emperor. 

Luther  now  felt  a  desire  to  visit  his  relatives  in  the 
town  of  his  ancestors,  from  which  he  was  but  a  short  dis- 
tance. Thither  he  takes  his  way.  He  journeys  through 
the  great  shady  forests  of  birch  to  the  little  town  of 
Moehra.  Will  they  welcome  a  man  excommunicated  by  the 
Pope?  Ah,  these  sturdy,  honest  German  peasants  rejoice 


92  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

that  one  of  their  own  family  has  manfully  resisted  tyranny. 
These  quiet  people  in  the  vales  of  the  Thuringian  Forest 
had  heard  something  of  his  clear  ringing  testimony.  They 
had  been  animated,  they  wanted  to  hear  more.  Luther  is 
to  preach  to  them.  The  chapel  is  far  too  small  to  hold  the 
people  who  wish  to  hear  him.  Luther  therefore  steps  to  an 
elevation  under  the  "  village  birch-tree,"  the  multitude 
gathers  about  him,  and  here  under  the  blue  expanse  of 
heaven  the  monk  speaks  to  them  the  everlasting  Gospel. 
Here,  where  in  ancient  times  the  old  Teutons  had  held 
court  and  passed  sentence,  where  the  sunshine  of  return- 
ing spring  had,  year  after  year,  awakened  new  life  in  the 
budding  blossoms  and  sprouting  shoots,  here  Luther  is  to 
point  out  to  them  the  way  of  peace  with  God.  There,  in 
their  midst  he  stands,  every  ear  is  attentive,  every  heart  is 
beating  with  expectancy.  His  forceful  words  touch  their 
conscience,  the  precious  consolations  of  the  Gospel  are  to 
them  sweeter  than  honey  and  the  honeycomb;  it  is  the 
Word  of  Christ,  it  is  the  truth,  it  makes  them  free;  and 
this  liberating  Word  sounds  through  the  forest  stillness, 
sounds,  throughout  Germany,  sounds  into  foreign  climes, 
and  with  its  sound  it  carries  life,  joy,  and  liberty. 

From  the  heights  of  the  Thuringian  Forest  through 
valleys  and  through  wooded  groves  Luther  rides  on  the 
4th  of  May  toward  the  south  again.  Quite  a  company  of 
earnest  men,  dressed  in  the  garb  of  forest-peasants,  con- 
duct him.  They  are  his  kinsmen.  They  love  the  man,  his 
words  have  touched  them  deeply,  this  social  converse  on 
the  roadway  cements  the  tie  that  unites  them.  But  the 
afternoon  is  advancing,  it  is  growing  dusk,  the  men  must 
return.  They  part.  Luther  is  once  more  alone,  still  trav- 
eling southward.  In  the  distance  now  are  seen  the  towers 
of  castle  Altenstein.  Suddenly  a  troop  of  armed  horsemen 
sallies  forth  from  the  forest,  surrounds  the  wagon,  threat- 
ens to  kill  the  driver  if  he  offers  resistance.  That  fright- 
ened man  lashes  the  horses,  but  one  of  the  attacking  party 
has  secured  these  and  is  holding  them.  The  Augustinian 
monk  who  accompanied  Luther,  fearing  for  his  own  life, 
escapes  into  the  forest.  Luther  is  dragged  from  the 
vehicle,  placed  on  a  horse  and  led  away.  In  another  mo- 
ment the  troop  has  disappeared  with  Luther  in  the  forest. 


MARTIN    LUTHER.  93 

Through  the  darkness  they  ride  at  a  mad  gait,  hither  and 
thither  as  it  seems,  till  late  at  night  they  arrive  at  a  lonely 
castle.  There  is  the  rattle  of  the  falling  drawbridge,  the 
clatter  of  hoofs  in  the  courtyard,  the  sound  of  a  command- 
ing voice,  and  the  hurrying  of  obeying  servants,  the  flicker- 
ing light  of  burning  torches  show  the  horsemen  the  way. 
Where  is  Luther?  It  is  an  ancient  fastness,  the  Wartburg, 
where  friends  have  provided  for  the  brave  monk  a  refuge 
from  the  storm  that  was  now  to  break  over  him.  The 
Elector  knew  that  Luther  must  be  sheltered,  for  ban  and 
proscription,  curse  of  Pope  and  persecution  of  Emperor, 
may  incite  a  fanatic  to  seek  the  hero's  life.  And  the  cruel 
edict  soon  appeared  which  outlawed  Luther,  forbade  every 
one  to  give  him  food  or  shelter,  but  gave  all  the  right  to 
take  him  captive  and  deliver  him  to  the  Emperor.  Given 
up  to  violence,  any  scoundrel  might  slay  him;  the  man  who 
dared  to  favor  him  was  to  be  taken  prisoner  and  his  goods 
confiscated.  Luther's  writings  were  to  be  burned. 

His  enemies  hurried  to  destroy  the  daring  monk. 
They  had  failed  to  prevent  his  departure,  protected  by  im- 
perial safe-conduct,  but  they  would  hasten  so  much  the 
more  to  expedite  his  ruin.  The  papal  legate  did  all  in  his 
power  to  induce  the  Emperor  to  execute  the  edict.  Noth- 
ing less  than  Luther's  death  would  satisfy  that  "  holy  "  man. 
But  the  Emperor's  political  entanglements  were  such  that 
he  needed  the  assistance  of  Luther's  mighty  friends.  He 
could  not  afford  to  offend  these  just  now. 

At  last  Aleander  had  prevailed  upon  the  Emperor  to 
sign  the  edict  which  made  of  Luther  an  outlaw  in  the  em- 
pire. In  the  old,  venerable  cathedral  after  divine  service 
the  Emperor  had  placed  his  signature  under  the  cruel 
document.  He  signed  it  on  the  28th  day  of  May,  when  the 
Diet  had  been  adjourned,  but  it  was  dated  back  the  8th  of 
May,  in  order  to  make  the  impression  that  it  had  been 
done  at  the  direction  of  the  Diet.  Thus  enemies  were 
busy  trying  to  accomplish  his  ruin,  friends  were  active  in 
providing  for  his  protection,  but  he  commended  himself  to 
God,  and  prayed  that  God's  Word  might  prosper  and  gain 
the  victory. 


94  THE  VOICE  OF    HISTORY. 

Inhabitants  of  Mexico. 

Prescott's  Conquest  of  Mexico. 

The  civilization  which  the  Aztec  and  Tezcucan  races  of 
Mexico  had  reached  at  the  time  of  their  conquest  by  Cortes  was 
scarcely  inferior  to  that  of  our  Saxon  ancestors,  under  Alfred. 
But  their  degrading  superstition  and  their  human  sacrifices  held 
them  captive  in  a  fearful  thraldom,  and  prevented  them  from 
any  higher  advance  in  mental  science  or  morals.  Without 
Christianity  a  people  may  make  some  progress  in  material  things, 
but  moral  corruption  will  spread,  while  superstition  and  cruelty 
reign. 

Human  sacrifices  were  adopted  by  the  Aztecs  early  in  the 
fourteenth  century,  about  two  hundred  years  before  the  Con- 
quest. Rare  at  first,  they  became  more  frequent  with  the 
wider  extent  of  their  empire,  till,  at  length,  almost  every  festi- 
val was  closed  with  this  cruel  abomination.  These  religious 
ceremonials  were  generally  arranged  in  such  a  manner  as  to 
afford  a  type  of  the  most  prominent  circumstances  in  the  char- 
acter or  history  of  the  deity  who  was  the  object  of  them.  A 
single  example  will  suffice. 

One  of  their  most  important  festivals  was  that  in  honor 
of  the  god  Tezcatlipoca,  whose  rank  was  inferior  only  to  that 
of  the  Supreme  Being.  He  was  called  "  the  soul  of  the 
world  "  and  supposed  to  have  been  its  creator.  He  was  de- 
picted as  a  handsome  man,  endowed  with  perpetual  youth. 
A  year  before  the  intended  sacrifice,  a  captive,  distinguished 
for  his  personal  beauty,  and  without  a  blemish  on  his  body, 
was  selected  to  represent  this  deity.  Certain  tutors  took 
charge  of  him,  and  instructed  him  how  to  perform  his  new 
part  with  becoming  grace  and  dignity.  He  was  arrayed  in 
a  splendid  dress,  regaled  with  incense  and  with  a  profusion 
of  sweet-scented  flowers,  of  which  the  ancient  Mexicans  were 
as  fond  as  their  descendants  at  the  present  day.  When  he 
went  abroad,  he  was  attended  by  a  train  of  the  royal  pages, 
and,  as  he  halted  in  the  streets  to  play  some  favorite  melody, 
the  crowd  prostrated  themselves  before  him,  and  did  him 
homage  as  the  representative  of  their  good  deity.  In  this 
way  he  led  an  easy,  luxurious  life,  till  within  a  month  of  his 
sacrifice.  Four  beautiful  girls,  bearing  the  names  of  the 
principal  goddesses,  were  then  selected  to  share  the  honors  of 
his  bed ;  and  with  them  he  continued  to  live  in  idle  dalliance, 


INHABITANTS   OF    MEXICO.  95 

feasted  at  the  banquets  of  the  principal  nobles,  who  paid  him 
all  the  honors  of  a  divinity. 

At  length  the  fatal  day  of  sacrifice  arrived.  The  term  of 
his  short-lived  glories  was  at  an  end.  He  was  stripped  of  his 
gaudy  apparel,  and  bade  adieu  to  the  fair  partners  of  his 
revelries.  One  of  the  royal  barges  transported  him  across 
the  lake  to  a  temple  which  rose  on  its  margin,  about  a  league 
from  the  city.  Hither  the  inhabitants  of  the  capital  flocked 
to  witness  the  consummation  of  the  ceremony.  As  the  sad 
procession  wound  up  the  sides  of  the  pyramid,  the  unhappy 
victim  threw  away  his  gay  chaplets  of  flowers,  and  broke  in 
pieces  the  musical  instruments  with  which  he  had  solaced  the 
hours  of  captivity.  On  the  summit  he  was  received  by  six 
priests,  whose  long  and  matted  locks  flowed  disorderly  over 
their  sable  robes,  covered  with  hieroglyphic  scrolls  of  mystic 
import.  They  led  him  to  the  sacrificial  stone,  a  huge  block 
of  jasper,  with  its  upper  surface  somewhat  convex.  On  this 
the  prisoner  was  stretched.  Five  priests  secured  his  head  and 
his  limbs;  while  the  sixth  clad  in  a  scarlet  mantle,  em- 
blematic of  his  bloody  office,  dexterously  opened  the  breast 
of  the  wretched  victim  with  a  sharp  razor  of  itstli, — a  volcanic 
substance,  hard  as  flint, — and,  inserting  his  hand  in  the  wound, 
tore  out  the  palpitating  heart.  The  minister  of  death,  first 
holding  this  up  towards  the  sun,  an  object  of  worship  through- 
out Anahuac,  cast  it  at  the  feet  of  the  deity  to  whom  the 
temple  was  devoted,  while  the  multitudes  below  prostrated 
themselves  in  humble  adoration.  The  tragic  story  of  this 
prisoner  was  expounded  by  the  priests  as  the  type  of  human 
destiny,  which,  brilliant  in  its  commencement,  too  often  closes 
in  sorrow  and  disaster. 

Such  was  the  form  of  human  sacrifice  usually  practiced  by 
the  Aztecs.  It  was  the  same  that  often  met  the  indignant  eyes 
of  the  Europeans,  in  their  progress  through  the  country,  and 
from  the  dreadful  doom  of  which  they  themselves  were  not 
exempted.  There  were,  indeed,  some  occasions  when  pre- 
liminary tortures,  of  the  most  exquisite  kind, — with  which  it 
is  unnecessary  to  shock  the  reader, — were  inflicted,  but  they 
always  terminated  with  the  bloody  ceremony  above  described. 
It  should  be  remarked,  however,  that  such  tortures  were  not 
the  spontaneous  suggestions  of  cruelty,  as  with  the  North 
American  Indians,  but  were  all  rigorously  prescribed  in  the 


96  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

Aztec  ritual,  and  doubtless  were  often  inflicted  with  the  same 
compunctious  visitings  which  a  devout  familiar  of  the  Holy 
Office  might  at  times  experience  in  executing  its  stern  decrees. 
Women,  as  well  as  the  other  sex,  were  sometimes  reserved  for 
sacrifice.  On  some  occasions,  particularly  in  seasons  of 
drought,  at  the  festival  of  the  insatiable  Tlaloc,  the  god  of 
rain,  children,  for  the  most  part  infants,  were  offered  up. 
As  they  were  borne  along  in  open  litters,  dressed  in  their  fes- 
tal robes,  and  decked  with  the  fresh  blossoms  of  spring, 
they  moved  the  hardest  heart  to  pity,  though  their  cries 
were  drowned  in  the  wild  chant  of  the  priests,  who  read 
in  their  tears  a  favorable  augury  for  their  petition.  These 
innocent  victims  were  generally  bought  by  the  priests  of 
parents  who  were  poor,  but  who  stifled  the  voice  of  nature, 
probably  less  at  the  suggestions  of  poverty  than  of  a 
wretched  superstition. 

The  most  loathsome  part  of  the  story — the  manner  in 
which  the  body  of  the  sacrificed  captive  was  disposed  of — re- 
mains yet  to  be  told.  It  was  delivered  to  the  warrior  who 
had  taken  him  in  battle,  and  by  him,  after  being  dressed, 
was  served  up  in  an  entertainment  to  his  friends.  This  was 
not  the  course  repast  of  famished  cannibals,  but  a  ban- 
quet teeming  with  delicious  beverages  and  delicate  viands, 
prepared  with  art,  and  attended  by  both  sexes,  who,  as  we 
shall  see  hereafter,  conducted  themselves  with  all  the  decorum 
of  civilized  life.  Surely,  never  were  refinement  and  the 
extreme  of  barbarism  brought  so  closely  in  contact  with 
each  other! 

Human  sacrifices  have  been  practiced  by  many  nations, 
not  excepting  the  most  polished  nations  of  antiquity,  but 
never  any  on  a  scale  to  be  compared  with  those  in  Anahuac. 
The  amount  of  victims  immolated  on  its  accursed  altars 
would  stagger  the  faith  of  the  least  scrupulous  believer. 
Scarcely  any  author  pretends  to  estimate  the  yearly  sacri- 
fices throughout  the  empire  at  less  than  twenty  thousand, 
and  some  carry  the  number  as  high  as  fifty ! 

On  great  occasions,  as  the  coronation  of  a  king,  or  the 
consecration  of  a  temple,  the  number  becomes  still  more 
appalling.  At  the  dedication  of  the  great  temple  of  Huitzil- 
opotchli,  1486,  the  prisoners,  who  for  some  years  had  been 
reserved  for  the  purpose,  were  drawn  from  all  quarters  to 


INHABITANTS   OF    MEXICO.  97 

the  capital.  They  were  ranged  in  files,  forming  a  proces- 
sion nearly  two  miles  long.  The  ceremony  consumed  sev- 
eral days,  and  seventy  thousand  captives  are  said  to  have 
perished  at  the  shrine  of  this  terrible  deity !  But  who  can 
believe  that  so  numerous  a  body  would  have  suffered  them- 
selves to  be  led  unresistingly  like  sheep  to  the  slaughter? 
Or  how  could  their  remains,  too  great  for  consumption 
in  the  ordinary  way,  be  disposed  of,  without  breeding  a  pes- 
tilence in  the  capital?  Yet  the  event  was  of  recent  date,  and 
is  unequivocally  attested  by  the  best  informed  historians. 
One  fact  may  be  considered  certain.  It  was  customary  to 
preserve  the  skulls  of  the  sacrificed  in  buildings  appropri- 
ated to  the  purpose.  The  companions  of  Cortes  counted  one 
hundred  and  thirty-six  thousand  in  one  of  these  edifices! 
Without  attempting  a  precise  calculation,  therefore,  it  is 
safe  to  conclude  that  thousands  were  yearly  offered  up,  in 
the  different  cities  of  Anahuac,  on  the  bloody  altars  of  the 
Mexican  divinities. 

Indeed,  the  great  object  of  war,  with  the  Aztecs,  was  quite 
as  much  to  gather  victims  for  their  sacrifices  as  to  extend 
their  empire.  Hence  it  was  that  an  enemy  was  never  slain 
in  battle,  if  there  were  a  chance  of  taking  him  alive.  To 
this  circumstance  the  Spaniards  repeatedly  owed  their  pres- 
ervation. When  Montezuma  was  asked  "  why  he  had  suf- 
fered the  republic  of  Tlascala  to  maintain  her  independence 
on  his  borders,"  he  replied,  "  That  she  might  furnish  him 
with  victims  for  his  gods  " !  As  the  supply  began  to  fail,  the 
priests,  the  Dominicans  of  the  New  World,  bellowed  aloud 
for  more,  and  urged  on  their  superstitious  sovereign  by  the 
denunciations  of  celestial  wrath.  Like  the  militant  church- 
men of  Christendom  in  the  Middle  Ages,  they  mingled  them- 
selves in  the  ranks,  and  were  conspicuous  in  the  thickest  of 
the  fight  by  their  hideous  aspect  and  frantic  gestures.  Strange 
that,  in  every  country,  the  most  fiendish  passions  of  the 
human  heart  have  been  those  kindled  in  the  name  of  religion ! 

The  influence  of  these  practices  on  the  Aztec  character 
was  as  disastrous  as  might  have  been  expected.  Familiarity 
with  the  bloody  rites  of  sacrifice  steeled  the  heart  against 
human  sympathy,  and  begat  a  thirst  for  carnage,  like  that 
excited  in  the  Romans  by  the  exhibitions  of  the  circus.  The 
perpetual  recurrence  of  ceremonies,  in  which  the  people  took 


98  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

part,  associated  religion  with  their  most  intimate  concerns, 
and  spread  the  gloom  of  superstition  over  the  domestic  hearth, 
until  the  character  of  the  nation  wore  a  grave  and  even 
melancholy  aspect,  which  belongs  to  their  descendants  at  the 
present  day.  The  influence  of  the  priesthood,  of  course,  be- 
came unbounded.  The  sovereign  thought  himself  honored 
by  being  permitted  to  assist  in  the  services  of  the  temple. 
Far  from  limiting  the  authority  of  the  priests  to  spiritual 
matters,  he  often  surrendered  his  opinion  to  theirs,  where 
they  were  least  competent  to  give  it.  It  was  their  opposi- 
tion that  prevented  the  final  capitulation  which  would  have 
saved  the  capital.  The  whole  nation,  from  the  peasant  to 
the  prince,  bowed  their  necks  to  the  worst  kind  of  tyranny, 
that  of  a  blind  fanaticism. 

In  reflecting  on  the  revolting  usages  recorded  in  the  pre- 
ceding pages,  one  finds  it  difficult  to  reconcile  their  existence 
with  anything  like  a  regular  form  of  government,  or  an 
advance  in  civilization.  Yet  the  Mexicans  had  many  claims 
to  the  character  of  a  civilized  community.  One  may,  per- 
haps, better  understand  the  anomaly,  by  reflecting  on  the  con- 
dition of  some  of  the  most  polished  countries  in  Europe,  in 
the  sixteenth  century,  after  the  establishment  of  the  modern 
inquisition,  an  institution  which  yearly  destroyed  its  thou- 
sands, by  a  death  more  painful  than  the  Aztec  sacrifices; 
which  armed  the  hand  of  brother  against  brother,  and, 
setting  its  burning  seal  upon  the  lip,  did  more  to  stay  the 
march  of  improvement  than  any  other  scheme  ever  devised 
by  a  human  cunning. 

Human  sacrifice,  however  cruel,  has  nothing  in  it  de- 
grading to  its  victim.  It  may  be  rather  said  to  ennoble  him 
by  devoting  him  to  the  gods.  Although  so  terrible  with  the 
Aztecs,  it  was  sometimes  voluntarily  embraced  by  them,  as 
the  most  glorious  death,  and  one  that  opened  a  sure  passage 
into  paradise.  The  Inquisition,  on  the  other  hand,  branded 
its  victims  with  infamy  in  this  world,  and  consigned  them  to 
everlasting  perdition  in  the  next. 


MASSACRE   OF   ST.    BARTHOLOMEW'S   DAY.  99 

The  Massacre  of  St.  Bartholomew's  Day. 

Baird's  History  of  the  Rise  of  the  Huguenots  of  France. 

The  plain,  unvarnished  account  of  this  nefarious  deed,  by 
which  the  Roman  Catholics  of  France  tried  to  massacre  their 
Protestant  fellow-citizens,  is  a  fearful  and  unanswerable  in- 
dictment against  that  wicked  and  ill-fated  king,  Charles  IX 
of  France;  but  it  is  even  a  more  positive  and  unmistakable  un- 
masking of  the  papacy  that  had  goaded  its  poor  dupes  on  to 
cover  themselves  with  infamy,  while  they,  in  a  frantic  effort  to 
save  the  decaying  Romish  superstition,  inflicted  a  wound  upon 
their  fair  native  land  of  France  from  which  it  never  entirely 
recovered.  They  are  true  words  which  the  Landgrave  William 
wrote  to  the  Electors  of  Saxony  and  of  Brandenburg  when  he 
heard  of  this  unparalleled  treachery :  "  The  princes  of  the  Augs- 
burg Confession,  can  see  in  this  inhuman  incident,  as  in  a 
mirror,  how  the  papists  are  disposed  toward  all  the  professors 
of  the  pure  doctrine.  The  Pope  and  his  party  follow  even  at 
this  day  the  rule  which  they  followed  respecting  John  Huss  in 
the  Council  of  Constance.  When  it  is  their  interest  so  to 
act,  they  do  not  deem  themselves  bound  to  keep  any  faith 
with  heretics." 

To  the  guilty  plotters  that  was  a  sleepless  night.  Unable  to 
rest  quietly,  at  a  little  before  dawn,  Catharine  with  her  two 
elder  sons  found  her  way  to  the  portal  of  the  Louvre,  ad- 
joining the  tennis  court.  There,  in  a  chamber  overlooking 
the  "  bassecour,"  they  sat  down  to  await  the  beginning  of 
their  treacherous  enterprise.  If  we  may  believe  Henry  of 
Anjou,  none  of  them  as  yet  realized  its  full  horrors;  but  as 
they  quietly  watched  in  that  hour  of  stillness  for  the  first 
signs  of  the  coming  outbreak,  the  report  of  a  pistol-shot 
reached  their  ears.  Instantly  it  wrought  a  marvelous  re- 
vulsion in  their  feelings.  Whether  the  shot  wounded  or  killed 
any  one,  they  knew  not;  but  it  brought  up  vividly  to  their 
imaginations  the  results  of  the  terrible  deluge  of  blood  whose 
flood-gates  they  had  raised.  Hastily  they  send  a  servant  to 
the  Duke  of  Guise,  and  countermand  the  instructions  of  the 
evening,  and  bid  him  do  no  injury  to  the  admiral.  It  is  too 
late!  The  messenger  soon  returns  with  the  tidings  that 
Coligny  is  already  dead,  that  the  work  is  about  to  begin  in 
all  the  rest  of  the  city.  This  news  produces  a  fresh  change. 
With  one  of  those  fluctuations  which  are  so  easy  for  souls 
that  have  no  firm  or  established  principles,  but  shift  accord- 
ing to  the  deceptive,  ever-varying  tide  of  apparent  interest, 


100  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

the  mother  and  her  sons  return  heartily  to  their  former  pur- 
pose. The  die  is  cast,  the  deed  is  half  done;  let  it  be  fully 
and  boldly  consummated.  No  room  now  for  pity  or  regret. 

It  was  a  Sunday  morning,  the  twenty-fourth  of  August — 
a  day  sacred  in  the  Roman  calendar  to  the  memory  of  Saint 
Bartholomew.  Torches  and  blazing  lights  had  been  burning 
all  night  in  the  streets  to  render  the  task  easy.  The  houses 
in  which  Protestants  lodged  had  been  distinctly  marked  with 
a  white  cross.  The  assassins  themselves  had  agreed  upon 
badges  for  mutual  recognition — a  white  cross  on  the  hat,  and 
a  handkerchief  tied  about  the  right  arm.  The  signal  for 
beginning  was  to  be  given  by  the  great  bell  of  the  "  Palais 
de  Justice  "  on  the  island  of  the  old  "  cite." 

The  preparations  had  not  been  so  cautiously  made  but  that 
they  attracted  the  notice  of  some  of  the  Huguenots  living 
near  Coligny.  Going  out  to  inquire  the  meaning  of  the  clash 
of  arms,  and  the  unusual  light  in  the  streets,  they  received 
the  answer  that  there  was  to  be  a  mock  combat  in  the  Louvre 
— a  pleasure  castle  was  to  be  assaulted  for  the  king's  diversion. 
But  as  they  went  farther  and  approached  the  Louvre,  their 
eyes  were  greeted  by  the  sight  of  more  torches  and  a  great 
number  of  armed  men.  The  guards,  full  of  the  contemplated 
plot,  could  not  refrain  from  insults.  It  soon  came  to  blows, 
and  a  Gascon  soldier  wounded  a  Protestant  gentleman  with 
his  halberd.  It  may  have  been  at  this  time  that  the  shot 
was  fired  which  Catharine  and  her  sons  heard  from  the  open 
window  of  the  Louvre.  Declaring  that  the  fury  of  the  troops 
could  no  longer  be  restrained,  the  queen  now  gave  orders  to 
ring  the  bell  of  the  neighboring  church  of  St.  Germain 
1'Auxerrois. 

Meantime  Henry  of  Guise,  Henry  of  Valois,  the  Bastard  of 
Angouleme,  and  their  attendants,  had  reached  the  admiral's 
house.  The  wounded  man  was  almost  alone.  Could  there 
be  any  clearer  proof  of  the  rectitude  of  his  purpose,  of  the 
utter  falsity  of  the  charges  of  conspiracy  with  which  his 
enemies  afterward  attempted  to  blacken  his  memory? 
Guerchy  and  other  Protestant  gentlemen  had  expressed  the 
desire  to  spend  the  night  with  him;  but  his  son-in-law,  Tel- 
igny,  full  of  confidence  in  Charles's  good  intentions,  ha3  de- 
clined their  offers,  and  had,  indeed,  himself  gone  to  his  own 
lodgings,  not  far  off,  in  the  Rue  St.  Honore.  With  Coligny 


MASSACRE   OF  ST.    BARTHOLOMEW'S   DAY.  101 

were  Merlin,  his  chaplain,  Pare,  the  king's  surgeon,  his  ensign 
Cornaton,  La  Bonne,  Yolet,  and  four  or  five  servants.  In  the 
court  below  there  were  five  of  Navarre's  Swiss  guards  on 
duty.  Coligny,  awakened  by  the  growing  noise  in  the  streets, 
had  at  first  felt  no  alarm,  so  implicitly  did  he  rely  upon  the 
protestations  of  Charles,  so  confident  was  he  that  Cosseins  and 
his  guards  would  readily  quell  any  rising  of  the  Parisians. 
But  now  some  one  knocks  at  the  outer  door,  and  demands  an 
entrance  in  the  king's  name.  Word  is  given  to  La  Bonne, 
who  at  once  descends  and  unlocks.  It  is  Cosseins,  followed 
by  the  soldiers  whom  he  commands.  No  sooner  does  he  pass 
the  threshold  than  he  stabs  La  Bonne  with  his  dagger.  Next 
he  seeks  the  admiral's  room,  but  it  is  not  easy  to  reach  it, 
for  the  brave  Swiss,  even  at  the  risk  of  their  own  lives,  de- 
fend first  the  door  leading  to  the  stairs,  and  then  the  stairs 
themselves.  And  now  Coligny  could  no  longer  doubt  the 
meaning  of  the  uproar.  He  rose  from  his  bed,  and,  wrapping 
his  dressing-gown  about  him,  asked  his  chaplain  to  pray ; 
and  while  Merlin  endeavored  to  fulfill  his  request,  he  himself 
in  audible  petitions  invoked  Jesus  Christ  as  his  God  and 
Savior,  and  committed  to  His  hands  again  the  soul  he  had 
received  from  Him.  It  was  then  that  the  person  to  whom  we 
are  indebted  for  this  account — and  he  can  scarcely  have  been 
another  than  Cornaton — rushed  into  the  room.  When  Pare 
asked  him  what  the  disturbance  imported,  he  turned  to  the 
admiral  and  said :  "  My  lord,  it  is  God  that  is  calling  us  to 
Himself!  The  house  has  been  forced,  and  we  have  no  means 
of  resistance !  "  To  whom  the  admiral,  unmoved  by  fear,  and 
even,  as  all  who  saw  him  testified,  without  the  least  change  of 
countenance,  replied :  "  For  a  long  time  have  I  kept  myself  in 
readiness  for  death.  As  for  you,  save  yourselves,  if  you  can. 
It  were  in  vain  for  you  to  attempt  to  save  my  life.  I  commend 
my  soul  to  the  mercy  of  God."  Obedient  to  his  directions,  all 
that  were  with  him,  save  Nicholas  Muss  or  de  la  Mouche,  his 
faithful  German  interpreter,  fled  to  the  roof,  and  escaped 
under  cover  of  the  darkness. 

One  of  Coligny's  Swiss  guards  had  been  shot  at  the  foot 
of  the  stairs.  When  Cosseins  had  removed  the  barricade  of 
boxes  that  had  been  erected  farther  up,  the  Swiss  in  his 
own  company,  whose  uniform  of  green,  white,  and  black 
showed  them  to  belong  to  the  Duke  of  Anjou,  found  their 


102  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

countrymen  on  the  other  side,  but  did  them  no  harm.  Ccj- 
seins  following  them,  however,  no  sooner  saw  these  armed 
men  than  he  ordered  his  arquebusiers  to  shoot,  and  one  of 
them  fell  dead.  It  was  a  German  follower  of  Guise,  named 
Besme,  who  first  reached  and  entered  Coligny's  chamber, 
and  who  for  the  exploit  was  subsequently  rewarded  with 
the  hand  of  a  natural  daughter  of  the  Cardinal  of  Lorraine. 
Cosseins,  Attin,  Sarlaboux,  and  others  were  behind  him. 
"  Is  not  this  the  Admiral  ?  "  said  Besme  of  the  wounded  man 
whom  he  found  quietly  seated  and  awaiting  his  coming.  "  I 
am  he,"  Coligny  calmly  replied.  "  Young  man,  thou  oughtest 
to  have  respect  for  my  old  age  and  my  feebleness;  but  thou 
shalt  not,  nevertheless,  shorten  my  life."  There  were  those 
who  asserted  that  he  added :  "  At  least,  would  that  some 
man,  and  not  this  blackguard,  put  me  to  death."  But  most 
of  the  murderers — and  among  them  Attin,  who  confessed 
that  never  had  he  seen  any  one  more  assured  in  the  presence 
of  death — affirmed  that  Coligny  said  nothing  beyond  the 
words  first  mentioned.  No  sooner  had  Besme  heard  the 
admiral's  reply,  than,  with  a  curse,  he  struck  him  with  his 
sword,  first  in  the  breast,  and  then  on  the  head.  The  rest 
took  part,  and  quickly  dispatched  him. 

In  the  court  below,  Guise  was  impatiently  waiting  to  hear 
that  his  mortal  enemy  was  dead.  "  Besme,"  he  cried  out  at 
last,  "  have  you  finished  ?  "  "  It  is  done,"  the  assassin  replied. 
"  Monsieur  le  Chevalier  (the  Bastard  of  Angouleme)  will 
not  believe  it,"  again  said  Guise  "  unless  he  sees  him  with 
his  own  eyes.  Throw  him  out  of  the  window !  "  Besme  and 
Sarlaboux  promptly  obeyed  the  command.  When  the  life- 
less remains  lay  upon  the  pavement  of  the  court,  Henry  of 
Guise  stooped  down  and  with  his  handkerchief  wiped  away 
the  blood  from  the  admiral's  face.  "  I  recognize  him,"  he 
said ;  "  it  is  he  himself !  "  Then,  after  ignobly  kicking  the 
face  of  his  fallen  antagonist,  he  went  out  gayly  encouraging 
his  followers :  "  Come,  soldiers,  take  courage ;  we  have  begun 
well.  Let  us  go  on  to  the  others,  for  so  the  king  commands  !  " 
And  often  through  the  day  Guise  repeated  the  words,  "  The 
king  commands ;  it  is  the  king's  pleasure ;  it  is  his  express 
command !  "  Just  then  a  bell  was  heard,  and  the  cry  was 
raised  that  the  Huguenots  were  in  arms  to  kill  the  king. 

As  for  Admiral  Coligny's  body,  after  the  head  had  been 


MASSACRE   OF   ST.    BARTHOLOMEW'S   DAY.  103 

cut  off  by  an  Italian  of  the  guard  of  the  Duke  de  Nevers, 
the  trunk  was  treated  with  every  indignity.  The  hands 
were  cut  off,  and  it  was  otherwise  mutilated  in  a  shame- 
less manner.  Three  days  was  it  dragged  about  the  streets 
by  a  band  of  inhuman  boys.  Meantime  the  head  had  been 
carried  to  the  Louvre,  where,  after  Catharine  and  Charles 
had  sufficiently  feasted  their  eyes  on  the  spectacle,  it  was 
embalmed  and  sent  to  Rome,  a  grateful  present  to  the  Car- 
dinal of  Lorraine  and  Pope  Gregory  XIII.  It  has  been 
questioned  whether  the  ghastly  trophy  ever  reached  its  des- 
tination. Indeed,  the  French  court  seems  to  have  become 
ashamed  of  its  inhumanity,  and  to  have  regretted  that  so 
startling  a  token  of  its  barbarous  hatred  had  been  allowed 
to  go  abroad.  Accordingly,  soon  after  the  departure  of 
the  courier,  a  second  courier  was  dispatched  in  great  haste 
to  Mandelot,  governor  of  Lyons,  bidding  him  stop  the  first 
and  take  away  from  him  the  admiral's  head.  He  arrived 
too  late,  however;  four  hours  before  Mandelot  received  the 
King's  letter,  "  a  squire  of  the  Duke  of  Guise,  named  Pauli," 
had  passed  through  the  city,  doubtless  carrying  the  precious 
relic.  That  it  was  actually  placed  in  the  hands  of  the 
Cardinal  of  Lorraine  at  Rome  need  not  be  doubted 


While  the  murder  of  Coligny  was  in  course  of  execution, 
or  but  shortly  after,  a  tragedy  not  less  atrocious  was  enacted 
in  the  royal  palace  itself.  A  number  of  Huguenot  gentle- 
men of  the  highest  distinction  were  lodged  in  the  Louvre. 
Charles,  after  the  admiral's  wound,  had  suggested  to  the 
King  of  Navarre  that  he  would  do  well  to  invite  some  of 
his  friends  to  act  as  a  guard  against  any  attack  that  might  be 
made  upon  him  by  the  Duke  of  Guise,  whom  he  charac- 
terized as  a  "  mauvois  garqon."  Later  on  Saturday  night,  as 
Margaret  of  Valois  informs  us  in  her  Memoirs,  and  long 
after  she  and  her  husband  had  retired,  these  Huguenot  lords, 
gathered  around  Henry  of  Navarre's  bed  to  the  number  of 
thirty,  had  discussed  the  occurrences  of  the  last  two  eventful 
days,  and  declared  their  purpose  to  go  to  the  king  on  the 
morrow  and  demand  the  punishment  of  the  Guises.  Mar- 
garet herself  had  been  purposely  kept  in  ignorance  of  the 
plan  for  the  extirpation  of  the  Protestants.  For,  if  the  Hu- 


104  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

guenots  suspected  her,  because  she  was  a  Roman  Catholic, 
the  papists  suspected  her  equally  because  she  had  married 
a  Protestant.  On  parting  with  her  mother  for  the  night, 
her  elder  sister  Claude,  Duchess  of  Lorraine,  who  happened 
to  be  on  a  visit  to  the  French  court,  had  vainly  attempted 
to  detain  Margaret,  expressing  with  tears  the  apprehen- 
sion that  some  evil  would  befall  her.  But  Catharine  had 
peremptorily  sent  her  to  bed,  assuring  her  with  words  which, 
seen  in  the  light  of  subsequent  revelations,  approach  the 
climax  of  profanity :  "  That,  if  God  pleased,  she  would 
receive  no  injury."  So  deep  was  the  impression  of  impend- 
ing danger  made  upon  Margaret's  mind  that  she  remained 
awake,  she  tells  us,  until  morning,  when  her  husband  arose, 
saying  that  he  would  go  and  divert  himself  with  a  game 
of  tennis  until  Charles  should  awake.  After  his  departure, 
the  Queen  of  Navarre,  relieved  of  her  misgivings,  as  the 
night  was  now  spent,  ordered  her  maid  to  lock  her  door, 
and  composed  herself  to  sleep. 

Meantime  the  Protestant  gentlemen  who  accompanied  Na- 
varre, and  all  the  others  who  lodged  in  the  Louvre,  had  been 
disarmed  by  Nanqay,  captain  of  the  guard.  In  this  defense- 
less condition  ten  or  twelve  of  their  number  were  conducted, 
one  by  one,  to  the  gate  of  the  building.  Here  soldiers  stood 
in  readiness,  and  dispatched  them  with  their  halberds  as 
they  successively  made  their  appearance.  Such  was  the  fate 
of  the  brave  Pardaillan,  of  St.  Martin,  of  Boursis,  of  Beau- 
vais,  former  tutor  of  Henry  of  Navarre,  and  of  others,  some 
of  whom  in  a  loud  voice  called  upon  Charles,  whom  they 
saw  at  a  window,  an  approving  spectator  of  the  butchery, 
to  remember  the  solemn  pledges  he  had  given  them.  M.  de 
Piles — that  brave  Huguenot  captain,  whose  valor,  if  it  did 
not  save  St.  Jean  d'Angely  in  the  third  civil  war,  had  at  least 
detained  the  entire  Roman  Catholic  army  for  seven  weeks 
before  fortifications  that  were  none  of  the  best,  and  rendered 
Moncontour  a  field  barren  of  substantial  fruits — was  the 
object  of  special  hatred,  and  his  conduct  was  particularly 
remarked  for  its  magnanimity.  Observing  among  the  by- 
standers a  Roman  Catholic  acquaintance  in  whose  honor  he 
might  perhaps  confide,  he  stripped  himself  of  his  cloak,  and 
would  have  handed  it  to  him,  with  the  words :  "  De  Piles 
makes  you  a  present  of  this;  remember  hereafter  the  death 


.     MASSACRE  OF   ST.    BARTHOLOMEW'S   DAY.  105 

of  him  who  is  now  so  unjustly  put  to  death !  "  "  Mon  capi- 
taine,"  answered  the  other,  fearful  of  incurring  the  enmity 
of  Catharine  and  Charles,  "  I  am  not  of  the  company  of  these 
persons.  I  thank  you  for  your  cloak ;  but  I  cannot  take  it 
upon  such  conditions."  The  next  moment  M.  de  Piles  fell, 
pierced  by  the  halberd  of  one  of  the  archers  of  the  guard. 
"  These  are  the  men,"  cried  the  murderers  at  their  bloody 
work,  "  who  resorted  to  violence,  in  order  to  kill  the  king 
afterward."  One  of  the  victims  marked  out  for  the  slaughter 
escaped  the  death  of  his  fellows.  Margaret  of  Valois  had  not 
been  long  asleep,  when  her  slumbers  were  rudely  disturbed  by 
loud  blows  struck  upon  the  door,  and  shouts  of  "  Navarre ! 
Navarre !  "  Her  attendant,  supposing  it  to  be  Henry  himself, 
hastily  opened  the  door;  when  there  rushed  in  instead,  a 
Huguenot  nobleman,  the  Viscount  de  Leran,  wounded  in  the 
arm  by  sword  and  halberd,  and  pursued  by  four  archers.  In 
his  terror  he  threw  himself  on  Margaret's  bed,  and  when  she 
jumped  up,  in  doubt  of  what  could  be  the  meaning  of  this 
strange  incident,  he  clung  to  her  night-dress  which  was 
drenched  with  his  blood.  Nanqay  angrily  reproved  the  indis- 
cretion of  his  soldiers,  and  Margaret,  leaving  the  Huguenot 
in  her  room  to  have  his  wounds  dressed,  suffered  herself  to 
be  conducted  to  the  chamber  of  her  sister,  the  Duchess  of 
Lorraine.  It  was  but  a  few  steps;  but,  on  the  way,  a  Hu- 
guenot was  killed  at  three  paces'  distance  from  her,  and  two 
others — the  first  gentleman  of  the  King  of  Navarre,  and  his 
first  valet-de-chambre — ran  to  her,  imploring  her  to  save 
their  lives.  She  sought  and  obtained  the  favor  on  her 
knees  before  Catharine  and  Charles.  A  few  other  Hu- 
guenots who  were  in  the  Louvre  were  ready  to  purchase 
their  lives  at  any  price,  even  to  that  of  abjuring  their  faith. 
They  obtained  pardon  on  promising  the  king  to  comply  with 
all  his  commands ;  and  this,  we  are  told,  "  the  more  easily, 
as  Charles  very  well  knew  that  they  had  little  or  no 
religion." 

*  *  * 

The  frenzy  that  had  fallen  upon  Paris  affected  all  classes 
alike.  Every  feeling  of  pity  seemed  to  have  been  blotted 
out.  Natural  affection  disappeared.  A  man's  foes  were 
those  of  his  own  household.  On  the  plea  of  religious  zeal 


106  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

the  most  barbarous  acts  were  committed.  Spire  Niquet,  a 
poor  bookbinder,  whose  scanty  earnings  barely  sufficed  to 
support  the  wants  of  his  seven  children,  was  half-roasted 
in  a  bonfire  made  of  his  own  books,  and  then  dragged  to 
the  river  and  drowned.  The  weaker  sex  was  not  spared 
in  the  universal  carnage,  and,  as  in  a  town  taken  by  assault, 
suffered  outrages  that  were  worse  than  death.  Matron  and 
maiden  alike  welcomed  as  merciful  the  blow  that  liberated 
them  from  an  existence  now  rendered  insupportable. 
Women  approaching  maternity  were  selected  for  more  ex- 
cruciating torments,  and  savage  delight  was  exhibited  in 
destroying  the  unborn  fruit  of  the  womb.  Nor  was  any 
rank  respected.  Madame  d'Yverny,  the  niece  of  Cardinal 
Bric.onnet,  was  recognized,  as  she  fled,  by  the  costly  under- 
clothing that  appeared  from  beneath  the  shabby  habit  of 
a  nun  which  she  had  assumed;  and,  after  suffering  every 
indignity,  upon  her  refusal  to  go  to  mass,  was  thrown  from 
a  bridge  into  the  Seine  and  drowned.  Occasionally  the 
women  rivaled  the  cruelty  of  the  men.  A  poor  carpenter, 
of  advanced  age,  with  whom  the  author  of  the  "  Tocsain 
contre  les  massacreurs "  was  personally  acquainted,  had 
been  taken  by  night  and  cast  into  the  river.  He  swam, 
however,  to  a  bridge,  and  succeeded  in  climbing  up  by  its 
timbers,  and  so  fled  naked  to  the  house  of  a  relative  near 
the  "  Cousture  Sainte  Catherine"  where  his  wife  had  taken 
refuge.  But,  instead  of  welcoming  him,  his  wife  drove  him 
away,  and  he  was  soon  recaptured  and  killed.  It  is  related 
that  the  daughter  of  one  Jean  de  Coulogne,  a  mercer  of  the 
"  Palais,"  betrayed  her  own  mother  to  death,  and  subse- 
quently married  one  of  the  murderers.  The  very  innocence 
of  childhood  furnished  no  sufficient  protection — so  literally 
did  the  pious  Catholics  of  Paris  interpret  the  oft-repeated 
exhortations  of  their  holy  father  to  exterminate  not  only 
the  roots  of  heresy,  but  the  very  fibers  of  the  roots.  Two 
infants,  whose  parents  had  just  been  murdered,  were  car- 
ried in  a  hod  and  cast  into  the  Seine.  A  little  girl  was 
plunged  naked  in  the  blood  of  her  father  and  mother,  with 
horrible  oaths  and  threats  that,  if  she  should  become  a  Hu- 
guenot, the  like  fate  would  befall  her.  And  a  crowd  of  boys, 
between  nine  and  ten  years  of  age,  was  seen  dragging 
through  the  streets  the  body  of  a  babe  yet  in  its  swaddling- 


MASSACRE  OF   ST.    BARTHOLOMEW'S   DAY.  107 

clothes,  which  they  had  fastened  to  a  rope  by  means  of  a 
belt  fied  about  its  neck. 

The  bodies  of  the  more  inconspicuous  victims  lay  for 
hours  in  whatever  spot  they  happened  to  be  killed;  but  the 
court  required  ocular  demonstration  that  the  leaders  of  the 
Huguenots  who  had  been  most  prominent  in  the  late  wars 
were  really  dead.  Accordingly  the  naked  corpses  of  Soubise, 
of  Guerchy,  of  Beaudine,  d'Acier's  brother,  and  of  others 
were  dragged  from  all  quarters  to  the  square  in  front  of 
the  Louvre.  There,  as  an  indignant  contemporary  writes, 
extended  in  a  long  row,  they  lay  exposed  to  the  view  of  the 
varlets,  of  whom,  when  alive,  they  had  been  the  terror. 
Cruelty  and  lust  are  twin  sisters:  when  the  one  is  at  hand, 
the  other  is  generally  not  far  distant.  The  court  of  Cath- 
arine de'  Medici  was  noted  for  its  impurity,  as  it  was  infa- 
mous for  its  recklessness  of  human  life.  It  was  not  out  of 
keeping  with  its  general  reputation  that  toward  evening  a 
bevy  of  ladies — among  them  the  queen  mother — tripped  down 
the  palace  stairs  to  feast  their  eyes  upon  the  sight  of  the 
uncovered  dead.  Indeed,  the  king,  the  queen  mother,  and 
their  intimate  friends  seemed  to  be  in  an  ecstasy  of  joy. 
They  indulged  in  boisterous  laughter  as  the  successive  re- 
ports of  the  municipal  authorities,  from  hour  to  hour, 
brought  in  tidings  of  the  extent  of  the  massacre.  "  The  war 
is  now  ended  in  reality,"  they  were  heard  to  say,  "  and  we 
shall  henceforth  live  in  peace."  The  Duke  of  Anjou  took 
a  more  active  part.  In  the  street  and  on  the  Pont  de  Notre 
Dame  he  was  to  be  seen  encouraging  the  assassins.  The  Duke 
of  Montpensier  was  surpassed  by  no  one  in  his  zealous  ad- 
vocacy of  the  murderous  work.  "  Let  every  man  exert  him- 
self to  the  utmost,"  he  cried,  as  he  rode  through  the  streets, 
"  if  he  wishes  to  prove  himself  a  good  servant  to  the  king." 
Tavannes,  if  we  may  believe  Brantome's  account,  endeavored 
to  rival  him,  and,  all  day  long,  as  he  rode  about  amid  the 
carnage,  amused  himself  by  facetiously  crying  to  the  people : 
"  Bleed !  Bleed !  The  doctors  say  that  bleeding  is  as  good 
in  the  month  of  August  as  in  May." 

Of  the  Duke  of  Alenqon  it  was  noticed  that,  alone  of 
Catharine's  sons,  he  took  no  part  in  the  massacre.  The 
Protestants  even  regarded  him  as  their  friend,  and  the  rumor 
was  current  that  the  pity  he  exhibited  excited  the  indignation 


108  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

of  his  mother  and  brothers.  Indeed,  Catharine,  it  was  said, 
openly  told  him  that,  if  he  ventured  to  meddle  with  her  plans, 
she  would  put  him  in  a  sack  and  throw  him  into  the  river. 

Of  the  pastors  of  the  Church  of  Paris,  it  was  noticed  as 
a  remarkable  circumstance  that  but  two — Buirette  and  Des- 
gorris — were  killed;  for  it  was  certain  that  no  lives  were 
more  eagerly  sought  than  theirs.  But  several  Protestant 
pastors  had  wonderful  escapes.  The  celebrated  D'Espine 
— the  converted  monk  who  took  part  in  the  Colloquy  of 
Poissy — was  in  company  with  Madame  d'Yverny  when  her 
disguise  was  discovered,  but  he  was  not  recognized.  In  the 
case  of  Merlin,  chaplain  of  Admiral  Coligny,  the  divine  inter- 
position seemed  almost  as  distinct  as  in  that  of  the  prophet 
Elijah.  After  reluctantly  leaving  Coligny,  at  his  earnest 
request,  and  clambering  over  the  roof  of  a  neighboring  house, 
he  fell  through  an  opening  into  a  garret  full  of  hay.  Not 
daring  to  show  himself,  since  he  knew  not  whether  he  would 
encounter  friends  or  foes,  he  remained  for  three  days  in  this 
retreat,  his  sole  food  an  egg  which  a  hen  daily  laid  within 
his  reach. 

The  future  minister  of  Henry  IV,  Maximilien  de  Bethune, 
Duke  of  Sully,  at  this  time  a  boy  of  twelve  and  a  student  in 
the  college  of  Burgundy  in  Paris,  has  left  us  in  his  Economics 
royales  a  thrilling  account  of  his  escape.  Awakened,  about 
three  o'clock  in  the  morning,  by  the  uproar  in  the  streets, 
his  tutor  and  his  valet-de-chambre  went  out  to  learn  the 
occasion  of  it,  and  never  returned.  They  were  doubtless 
among  the  first  victims.  Sully's  trembling  host — a  Protestant 
who  consented  through  fear  to  abjure  his  faith — now  came  in, 
and  advised  the  youth  to  save  his  life  by  going  to  mass.  Sully 
was  not  prepared  to  take  this  counsel,  and,  so  putting  on  his 
scholar's  gown,  he  ventured  upon  the  desperate  step  of  trying 
to  reach  the  college.  A  horrible  scene  presented  itself  to  view. 
Everywhere  men  were  breaking  into  nouses,  or  slaughtering 
their  captives  in  the  public  streets,  while  the  cry  of  "  Kill 
the  Huguenots  !  "  was  heard  on  all  sides.  Sully  himself  owed 
his  preservation  to  two  thick  volumes  of  Heures — Romish 
books  of  devotion — which  he  had  the  presence  of  mind  to 
take  under  his  arm,  and  which  effectually  disarmed  the  sus- 
picions of  the  three  successive  bands  of  soldiers  that  stopped 
him.  At  the  college,  after  with  difficulty  gaining  admission, 


MASSACRE  OF   ST.    BARTHOLOMEW'S   DAY.  109 

he  incurred  still  greater  danger.  Happily  the  principal,  M.  Du 
Faye,  was  a  kind-hearted  man.  In  vain  was  he  urged,  by  two 
priests  who  were  his  guests,  to  surrender  the  Huguenot  boy 
to  death,  saying  that  the  order  was  to  massacre  even  the  very 
babes  at  the  breast.  Du  Faye  would  not  consent;  and  after 
having  secretly  kept  Sully  locked  up  for  three  days  in  a  closet, 
he  found  means  to  restore  him  to  his  friends. 


While  the  massacre  begun  on  St.  Bartholomew's  Day  was 
spreading  with  the  speed  of  some  foul  contagion  to  the  most 
distant  parts  of  France,  the  tidings  had  been  carried  beyond 
its  boundaries,  and  excited  a  thrill  of  delight,  or  a  cry  of  ex- 
ecration, according  to  the  character  and  sympathies  of  those 
to  whom  they  came.  Nowhere  was  the  surprise  greater,  nor 
the  joy  more  intense,  than  at  Rome.  Pope  Gregory,  like  his 
predecessor,  had  been  very  skeptical  respecting  the  pious  in- 
tentions of  the  French  court.  Nuncios  and  legates  brought 
them,  it  is  true,  a  great  profusion  of  brilliant  assurances,  on 
the  part  of  Catharine  and  Charles,  of  devotion  to  the  Roman 
Church,  and  to  the  interests  of  the  Pontifical  See,  but  accom- 
panied by  lugubrious  vaticinations  of  their  own,  based  upon 
the  tolerant  course  on  which  the  king,  under  Coligny's  guid- 
ance, had  entered.  The  Cardinal  of  Alessandria  had  made 
little  account  of  the  ring  offered  him  by  Charles  as  a  pledge 
of  his  sincerity,  and  preferred  to  wait  for  the  proof  which  the 
sequel  might  exhibit.  The  last  defiant  act  of  the  French  mon- 
arch, in  marrying  his  sister  to  a  professed  heretic,  and  within 
the  degrees  of  consanguinity  prohibited  by  the  Church,  with- 
out obtaining  the  Pope's  dispensation,  served  to  confirm  all 
the  sinister  suspicions  entertained  at  Rome.  Under  these  cir- 
cumstances the  papal  astonishment  and  rejoicing  can  well  be 
imagined,  when  couriers  sent  by  the  Guises  brought  the  intel- 
ligence of  the  massacre  to  the  Cardinal  of  Lorraine,  and  when 
letters  from  the  King  of  France  and  from  the  Nuncio  Salviati 
in  Paris  to  the  Pope  himself  confirmed  its  accuracy.  Salviati's 
letters  having  been  read  in  the  full  consistory,  on  the  sixth 
of  September,  the  pontiff  and  the  cardinals  resolved  to  go  at 
once  in  solemn  procession  to  the  church  of  San  Marco,  there 
to  render  thanks  to  God  for  the  signal  blessing  conferred  upon 
the  Roman  See  and  all  Christendom.  A  solemn  mass  was  ap- 


110  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

pointed  for  the  succeeding  Monday  and  a  jubilee  published  for 
the  whole  Christian  world.  In  the  evening  the  cannon  from 
the  Castle  of  San  Angelo,  and  firearms  discharged  here  and 
there  throughout  the  city,  proclaimed  to  all  the  joy  felt  for  so 
signal  a  victory  over  the  enemies  of  the  Church.  For  three 
successive  nights  there  was  a  general  illumination.  Cardinal 
Orsini,  who  seems  to  have  been  on  the  point  of  starting  for 
France  as  a  special  legate  to  urge  the  court  to  withdraw  from 
the  course  of  toleration,  now  received  different  instructions, 
and  was  commissioned  to  congratulate  Charles,  and  to  encour- 
age him  to  pursue  the  path  upon  which  he  had  entered. 
Charles  of  Lorraine,  as  was  natural,  distinguished  himself 
for  his  demonstrations  of  joy.  He  made  a  present  of  one 
thousand  crowns  to  the  bearer  of  such  glad  tidings.  Under 
his  auspices  a  brilliant  celebration  of  the  event  took  place 
in  the  church  of  San  Luigi  de'  Francesi,  which  was  mag- 
nificently decorated  for  the  occasion.  Gregory  himself, 
attended  by  his  cardinals  and  bishops,  by  princes,  for- 
eign ambassadors,  and  large  numbers  of  nobles  and  of 
the  people,  walked  thither  under  the  pontifical  canopy,  and 
high  mass  was  said.  The  Cardinal  of  Lorraine  had  af- 
fixed above  the  entrance  a  pompous  declaration,  in  the  form 
of  a  congratulatory  notice  from  Charles  IX  to  Gregory  and 
the  "  Sacred  College  of  Cardinals,"  wherein  the  Very  ChVis- 
tian  King  renders  thanks  to  Heaven  that,  "  inflamed  by 
zeal  for  the  Lord  God  of  Hosts,  like  a  smiting  angel  dirinely 
sent,  he  had  suddenly  destroyed  by  a  single  slaughter  almost 
all  the  heretics  and  enemies  of  his  kingdom."  The  latinity 
of  the  placard  might  not  be  above  reproach;  but  it  is  certain 
that  its  sentiments  received  the  cordial  approval  of  the  as- 
sembled prelates.  Set  forth  in  golden  characters,  and  deco- 
rated with  festive  leaves  and  ribbons,  it  proclaimed  that  the 
hierarchy  of  the  Roman  Church  had  no  qualms  of  conscience 
in  indorsing  the  traitorous  deed  of  Charles  and  Catharine. 
But  still  more  unequivocal  proofs  were  not  wanting.  A  well- 
known  medal  was  struck  in  honor  of  the  event,  bearing  on 
the  one  side  the  head  of  the  Pope  and  the  words  "  Gregorius 
XIII.  Pont.  Max.  An.  I.,"  and  on  the  other  an  angel  with 
cross  and  sword  pursuing  the  heretics,  and  the  superscrip- 
tion, "Ugonottorum  strages,  1572." 

By  the  order  of  the  Pope,  the  famous  Vasari  painted  in 


MASSACRE  OF  ST.   BARTHOLOMEW'S   DAY.  Ill 

the  Sala  Regia  of  the  Vatican  palace  several  pictures  repre- 
senting different  scenes  in  the  Parisian  massacre.  Upon  one 
an  inscription  was  placed  which  tersely  expressed  the  true 
state  of  the  case :  "  Pontifex  Colinii  necem  probat."  The 
paintings  may  still  be  seen  in  the  magnificent  room  which 
serves  as  antechamber  to  the  Sistine  Chapel. 

To  the  French  ambassador,  M.  de  Ferralz,  Gregory  ex- 
pressed in  the  most  extravagant  terms  his  satisfaction,  and 
that  of  the  College  of  Cardinals,  not  only  with  the  events  of 
Paris,  but  with  the  news  daily  coming  to  Rome  of  similar 
massacres  in  progress  in  different  cities  of  France.  He  con- 
vinced Ferralz  that  no  more  delightful  tidings  could  hare 
reached  the  pontifical  court.  The  battle  of  Lepanto  could  not 
compare  with  it.  "  Tell  your  master,"  said  he  to  the  envoy 
at  the  conclusion  of  his  audience,  "  that  this  event  has  given 
me  a  hundred  times  more  pleasure  than  fifty  victories  like 
that  which  the  League  obtained  over  the  Turk  last  year." 
In  the  excess  of  his  joy  he  did  not  forget  to  enjoin  on  every 
one  he  spoke  to,  especially  all  Frenchmen,  to  light  bonfires 
in  honor  of  the  massacre,  hinting  that  whoever  should  fail 
to  do  so  must  be  unsound  in  the  faith.  A  few  weeks  later, 
the  pontiff  shocked  even  some  devout  Roman  Catholics  by 
allowing  Cardinal  Lorraine  and  the  French  ambassador  to 
present  to  him  Maurevel,  the  assassin  who  had  fired  the 
arquebuse  shot  at  Admiral  Coligny. 

"  The  pontiff,"  says  his  countryman,  the  historian  Adriani, 
"  and  all  Italy  universally  rejoiced  greatly,  and  forgave  the 
king  and  queen  their  previous  dissimulation."  For  the 
French  at  Rome  now  pretended  that  the  massacre  had  long 
been  planned  by  their  monarch,  and  that  every  favor  to  the 
Huguenots  for  the  past  two  years  had  been  shown  to  them 
merely  for  the  purpose  of  lulling  them  into  a  false  security. 
The  Pope  accepted  the  plea  without  troubling  himself  much 
whether  it  were  true  or  not,  satisfied  as  he  was  with  the  event. 
But  not  so  the  Spanish  envoy  at  the  Roman  court,  Don  Juan 
de  Cuniga.  "  The  French  wish  to  give  the  impression,"  he 
wrote  to  his  master,  "  that  the  king  meditated  this  blow  from 
the  time  he  made  peace  with  the  Huguenots;  and  in  order 
that  it  may  be  believed  that  he  was  capable  of  preparing  it 
and  concealing  it  until  the  proper  time  for  the  execution, 
they  attribute  to  him  stratagems  which  do  not  seem  allow- 


112  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

able  even  against  heretics  and  rebels.  I  deem  it  certain 
that,  if  the  shooting  of  the  arquebuse  at  the  admiral  was  a 
thing  projected  a  few  days  beforehand,  and  authorized  by 
the  king,  all  the  rest  was  inspired  by  circumstances." 
Equally  positive,  though  not  at  all  doubtful  respecting  the 
morality  of  the  transaction,  and  more  jubilant,  was  the 
Nuncio  Salviati,  in  Paris.  While  desiring  that  the  Cardi- 
nal Secretary  "  should  kiss  the  feet  of  his  Holiness  in  his 
name,"  and  "  rejoicing  with  him  in  the  bowels  of  his  heart 
at  the  blessed  and  honorable  commencement  of  his  pontif- 
icate," while  declaring  that,  despite  his  previous  belief  that 
the  court  of  France  would  not  much  longer  tolerate  the 
admiral's  arrogance,  he  would  never  have  imagined  the 
tenth  part  of  what  he  now  saw  with  his  own  eyes,  he  also 
stated  he  could  not  bring  himself  to  believe  that,  had  the 
admiral  been  killed  by  Maurevel's  shot,  so  much  would  have 
been  done  by  a  great  deal.  Now,  however,  "  the  queen 
intended  not  only  to  revoke  the  Edict  of  Pacification,  but 
by  means  of  justice  to  restore  the  ancient  observance  of 

the  Catholic  faith." 

*  *  * 

Before  dismissing  the  consideration  of  the  stupendous 
crime  for  which  divine  vengeance — to  use  the  words  of 
Sully — "  made  France  atone  by  twenty-six  consecutive 
years  of  disaster,  carnage,  and  horror,"  it  is  at  once  inter- 
esting and  important  to  glance  at  a  historical  question 
which  still  agitates  the  world,  and  for  a  correct  and  im- 
partial solution  of  which  we  are,  perhaps,  more  favorably 
situated  than  were  even  the  contemporaries  of  the  event.  I 
allude  to  the  inquiry  respecting  the  extent  to  which  the 
Roman  Church,  and  the  Pope  in  particular,  must  be  held 
responsible  for  the  Massacre  of  St.  Bartholomew's  Day. 

So  far  as  Queen  Catharine  was  concerned,  (and  the 
same  is  true  of  some  of  her  advisers,)  it  is  admitted  by  all 
that  no  zeal  for  religion  controlled  her  conduct.  A  disso- 
lute and  ambitious  woman,  and,  moreover,  almost  an  avowed 
atheist,  she  could  not  have  acted  from  a  sincere  but  mis- 
taken belief  that  it  was  her  duty  to  exterminate  heresy. 
But  among  the  inferior  agents  it  can  scarcely  be  doubted 
that  there  were  some  who  believed  themselves  to  be  doing 


y  MASSACRE   OF   ST.    BARTHOLOMEW'S   DAY.  113 

God  service  in  ridding  the  world  of  the  enemies  of  His 
Church.  Had  not  the  preachers  in  their  sermons  extolled 
the  deed  as  the  most  meritorious  that  could  be  performed, 
and  as  furnishing  an  unquestionable  passport  to  paradise? 
The  number,  however,  of  these  religious  assassins — if  so 
we  may  style  them — could  be  but  small  in  comparison  with 
the  multitude  of  those  to  whom  religion  served  merely  as  a 
pretext,  while  cupidity  or  partisan  hatred  was  the  true  mo- 
tive; men  who,  nevertheless,  derived  their  incentive  from 
the  lessons  of  their  spiritual  guides,  and  who  would  never 
have  dreamed  of  giving  loose  rein  to  their  passions  but  for 
the  suggestions  of  these  sanguinary  teachers.  At  the  bar  of 
history  the  priesthood  that  countenanced  assassination  must 
be  held  no  less  accountable  for  the  actions  of  this  class  than 
for  the  deeds  of  more  sincere  devotees. 

It  is  immaterial  to  the  question  of  the  responsibility  of 
the  Papal  Church  whether  the  queen  mother  and  the  king's 
ministers  were  honest,  or  were  Roman  Catholics,  or,  indeed, 
Christians  only  in  name.  If  the  Pope  had  for  years,  by 
letter  and  by  his  accredited  agents,  been  insinuating  that 
the  life  of  a  heretic  was  a  thing  of  little  value;  if  he  sys- 
tematically advocated  a  war  of  extermination,  and  opposed 
every  negotiation  for  peace,  every  truce,  every  edict  of 
pacification  that  did  not  look  to  the  annihilation  of  the 
Huguenots;  if  he  had  familiarized  the  minds  of  king  and 
queen  with  the  thought  of  justifiable  massacre,  it  is  of  little 
importance  to  ascertain  whether  his  too  ready  pupils  exe- 
cuted the  injunction  from  a  pure  desire  to  further  the  in- 
terests of  the  Papal  See  or  with  more  selfish  designs.  Un- 
fortunately for  humanity  and  for  religion,  the  course  I  have 
indicated  was  that  which  had  been  consistently  and  inde- 
fatigably  pursued  during  the  entire  pontificate  of  Pius  V, 
and  during  the  few  months  that  had  elapsed  since  the 
election  of  his  successor. 

Contrary  to  the  firm  persuasion  of  the  Protestants  who 
wrote  contemporary  accounts  of  the  massacre,  we  must  in 
all  probability,  as  we  have  already  seen,  acquit  Gregory 
XIII  of  any  knowledge  of  the  disaster  impending  over  the 
admiral  and  the  Huguenots.  It  was  what  he  wished  for 
and  prayed  for,  but  with  little  hope  of  seeing  the  accom- 
plishment. In  fact,  he  was  brought  to  the  verge  of  despair 


114  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

in  respect  to  the  hold  of  the  papacy  upon  the  kingdom  of 
France.  Nuncio  Salviati,  at  Paris,  had,  indeed,  conceived 
the  hope  that  some  disaster  would  befall  the  Huguenots  in 
consequence  of  Coligny's  imprudence  and  the  desperation 
of  the  queen  mother  and  of  the  Roman  Catholic  party  at 
finding  the  authority  slipping  from  their  hands.  But  his 
astonishment  and  that  of  the  pontiff  at  the  general  massacre 
of  the  Protestants  was  surpassed  only  by  their  common  de- 
light. The  fragments  of  the  dispatches  from  Salviati  to  the 
Roman  Secretary  of  State  which  have  been  suffered  to  find 
their  way  into  print  seem  to  settle  this  point  beyond  all 
controversy. 

We  have  in  previous  chapters  seen  the  Pope  assisting 
Charles  with  money  and  troops  in  the  prosecution  of  the 
last  two  wars  against  the  Huguenots.  But  this  aid  was 
accompanied  with  perpetual  exhortations  to  do  the  work 
thoroughly,  and  not  to  repeat  the  mistakes  committed  by 
his  predecessors.  "  That  heresy  cannot  be  tolerated  in  the 
same  kingdom  with  the  worship  of  the  Catholic  religion," 
writes  Pius  V  to  Sigismund  Augustus  of  Poland,  "  is  proved 
by  that  very  example  of  the  kingdom  of  France,  which  your 
Majesty  brings  up  for  the  purpose  of  excusing  yourself.  If 
the  former  kings  of  France  had  not  suffered  this  evil  to 
grow  by  neglect  and  indulgence,  they  would  easily  have 
been  able  to  extirpate  heresy  and  secure  the  peace  and  quiet 
of  their  realm."  Of  all  the  leaders  of  the  day,  the  Duke  of 
Alva  alone  earned,  by  his  unrelenting  destruction  of  heretics, 
the  unqualified  approval  of  the  pontiff.  When  the  tidings 
of  the  successes  of  the  "  Blood  Council "  reached  Rome,  Pius 
could  not  contain  himself  for  joy.  He  must  congratulate 
the  duke,  and  spur  him  on  in  a  course  upon  which  the 
blessing  of  Heaven  so  manifestly  rested.  "  Nothing  can  oc- 
cur to  us,"  said  he,  "  more  glorious  for  the  dignity  of  the 
Church,  or  more  delightful  to  the  truly  paternal  disposition 
of  our  mind  to  all  men,  than  when  we  perceive  that  war- 
riors and  very  brave  generals,  such  as  we  previously  knew 
you  to  be  and  now  find  you  in  this  most  perilous  war,  con- 
sult not  their  own  interest,  nor  their  own  glory  alone,  but 
war  in  behalf  of  that  Almighty  God  who  stands  ready  to 
crown  His  soldiers  contending  for  Him  and  His  glory,  not 


MASSACRE   OF   ST.    BARTHOLOMEW'S   DAY.  115 

with  a  corruptible  crown,  but  with  one  that  is  eternal  and 
fadeth  not  away." 

With  this  express  indorsement  of  Alva's  merciless  cruelty 
before  us,  it  is  not  difficult  to  understand  what  Pius  de- 
manded of  Charles  of  France.  Early  in  1569,  while  sending 
the  Duke  of  Sforza  with  auxiliaries,  he  wrote  to  the  king: 
"  When  God  shall  by  His  kindness  have  given  to  you  and  to 
us,  as  we  hope,  the  victory,  it  will  be  your  duty  to  punish 
the  heretics  and  their  leaders  with  all  severity,  and  thus 
justly  to  avenge  not  only  your  own  wrongs,  but  those  of 
Almighty  God,  in  order  that,  by  your  execution  of  the 
righteous  judgment  of  God,  they  may  pay  the  penalty  which 
they  have  deserved  by  their  crimes."  After  the  battle  of 
Jarnac  and  Conde's  death,  Pius  wrote  promptly,  bidding 
Charles  "  pursue  and  destroy  the  remnants  of  the  enemy, 
and  wholly  tear  up  not  only  the  roots  of  an  evil  so  great, 
and  which  had  gathered  to  itself  such  strength,  but  even 
the  very  fibers  of  the  roots."  He  begged  him  not  to  spare 
those  who  had  not  spared  God  nor  their  king.  To  Catharine 
and  to  the  Duke  of  Anjou,  to  the  Cardinal  of  Bourbon,  and 
to  the  Cardinal  of  Lorraine,  the  same  language  was  ad- 
dressed. Again  and  again  the  Pope  held  up  the  example  of 
Saul,  who  disregarded  the  commands  of  the  Lord  through 
Samuel  and  spared  the  Amalekites,  as  a  solemn  warning 
against  disobedience.  To  the  queen  mother  he  said :  "  Under 
no  circumstances  and  from  no  considerations  ought  the 
enemies  of  God  to  be  spared.  If  your  Majesty  shall  con- 
tinue, as  heretofore,  to  seek  with  right  purpose  of  mind  and 
a  simple  heart  the  honor  of  Almighty  God,  and  shall  assail 
the  foes  of  the  Catholic  religion  openly  and  freely  even  to 
extermination,  be  well  assured  that  the  divine  assistance 
will  never  fail,  and  that  still  greater  victories  will  be  pre- 
pared by  God  for  you  and  for  the  king,  your  son,  until, 
when  all  shall  have  been  destroyed,  the  pristine  worship  of 
the  Catholic  religion  shall  be  restored  to  that  most  illustrious 
realm."  The  Duke  of  Anjou  was  urged  to  incite  his  brother 
to  punish  the  rebels  with  great  severity,  and  to  be  inexorable 
in  refusing  the  prayers  of  all  who  would  intercede  for  them. 
Charles  was  given  to  understand  that  if,  induced  by  any 
motives,  he  should  defer  the  punishment  of  God's  enemies, 


116  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

he  would  certainly  tempt  the  divine  patience  to  change  to 
anger. 

The  victory  of  Moncontour  furnished  an  occasion  for 
fresh  exhortations  to  the  king  not  to  neglect  to  inflict  upon 
the  enemies  of  Almighty  God  the  punishments  fixed  by  the 
laws.  "  For  what  else  would  this  be,"  said  Pius,  "  than  to 
make  of  no  effect  the  blessing  of  God,  namely,  victory  itself, 
whose  fruit  indeed  consists  in  this,  that  by  just  punishment 
the  execrable  heretics,  common  enemies,  having  been  taken 
away,  the  former  peace  and  tranquillity  should  be  restored 
to  the  kingdom.  And  do  not  allow  yourself,  by  the  sugges- 
tion of  the  empty  name  of  pity,  to  be  deceived  so  far  as  to 
seek,  by  pardoning  divine  injuries,  to  obtain  false  praise  for 
compassion ;  for  nothing  is  more  cruel  than  that  pity  and 
compassion  which  is  extended  to  the  impious  and  those  who 
deserve  the  worst  of  torments."  The  work  begun  by  victories 
in  the  field  was,  therefore,  to  be  completed  by  the  institution 
of  inquisitors  of  the  faith  in  every  city,  and  the  adoption 
of  such  other  measures  as  might,  with  God's  help,  at  length 
create  the  kingdom  anew  and  restore  it  to  its  former  state. 

As  often  as  rumors  of  negotiations  for  peace  reached  him, 
Pius  was  in  anguish  of  soul,  and  wrote  to  Charles,  to 
Catharine,  to  Anjou,  to  the  French  cardinals,  in  almost  the 
same  words.  He  protested  that,  as  light  has  no  communion 
with  darkness,  so  no  compact  between  Catholics  and  heretics 
could  be  other  than  feigned  and  full  of  treachery.  As  the 
prospect  of  peace  grew  more  distinct,  his  prognostications  of 
coming  disaster  grew  darker,  and  sounded  almost  like  threats. 
Even  if  the  heretics,  in  concluding  the  peace,  had  no  inten- 
tion of  laying  snares,  God  would  put  it  into  their  minds  as 
a  punishment  to  the  king.  "  Now,  how  fearful  a  thing  it  is 
to  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  living  God,  who  is  wont  not 
only  to  chastise  the  corrupt  manners  of  men  by  war,  but, 
on  account  of  the  sins  of  kings  and  people,  to  dash  kingdoms 
in  pieces,  and  to  transfer  them  from  their  ancient  masters 
to  new  ones,  is  too  evident  to  need  to  be  proved  by  ex- 
amples." When  at  last  the  peace  of  Saint  Germain  was 
definitely  concluded,  the  Pope  did  not  cease  to  lament  over 
"  a  pacification  in  which  the  conquered  heretics  imposed 
upon  the  victorious  king  conditions  so  horrible  and  so  per- 
nicious that  he  could  not  speak  of  them  without  tears." 


MASSACRE   OF   ST.    BARTHOLOMEW'S   DAY.  117 

And  he  expressed  at  the  same  time  his  paternal  fears  lest 
the  young  Charles,  and  those  who  had  consented  to  the  un- 
holy compact,  would  be  given  over  to  a  reprobate  mind, 
that  seeing  they  might  not  see,  and  hearing  they  might  not 
hear. 

To  his  last  breath  Pius  retained  the  same  thirst  for  the 
blood  of  the  heretics  of  France.  He  violently  opposed  the 
marriage  of  the  king's  sister  to  Henry  of  Navarre,  and  in- 
structed his  envoy  at  the  French  court  to  bring  up  again 
that  "  matter  of  conciliation  so  fatal  to  the  Catholics."  His 
last  letters  are  as  sanguinary  as  his  first.  Meanwhile  his 
acts  corresponded  with  his  words,  and  left  the  King  of  France 
and  his  mother  in  no  doubt  respecting  the  value  which  the 
pretended  vicegerent  of  God  upon  earth,  and  the  future 
saint,  set  upon  the  life  of  a  heretic;  for  when  the  town  of 
Mornas  was  on  one  occasion  captured  by  the  Roman  Catholic 
forces,  and  a  number  of  prisoners  were  taken,  Pius — "  such," 
his  admiring  biographer  informs  us,  "  was  his  burning  zeal 
for  religion  " — ransomed  them  from  the  hands  of  their  cap- 
tors, that  he  might  have  the  satisfaction  of  ordering  their 
public  execution  in  the  pontifical  city  of  Avignon !  And 
when  the  same  holy  father  learned  that  Count  Santa  Fiore, 
the  commander  of  the  papal  troops  sent  to  Charles'  assistance, 
had  accepted  the  offer  of  a  ransom  for  the  life  of  a  dis- 
tinguished Huguenot  nobleman,  he  wrote  to  him  complaining 
bitterly  that  he  had  disobeyed  his  orders,  which  were  that 
every  heretic  that  fell  into  his  hands  should  straightway 
be  put  to  death.  As,  however,  Pius  wanted  not  Huguenot 
treasure,  but  Huguenot  blood,  with  more  consistency  than 
at  first  appears,  he  ordered  the  captive  nobleman  whose 
head  had  been  spared  to  be  released  without  ransom. 

With  such  continual  papal  exhortations  to  bloodshed, 
before  us,  with  such  suggestive  examples  of  the  treatment 
which  heretics  ought,  according  to  the  pontiff,  to  receive, 
and  in  the  light  of  the  extravagant  joy  displayed  at  Rome 
over  the  consummation  of  the  massacre,  we  can  scarcely 
hesitate  to  find  the  head  of  the  Roman  Catholic  Church 
guilty — if  not,  by  a  happy  accident,  of  having  known  or 
devised  the  precise  mode  of  its  execution,  at  least  of  having 
long  instigated  and  paved  the  way  for  the  commission  of 
the  crime.  Without  the  teachings  of  Pius  V,  the  conspiracy 


118  THE   VOICE  OF    HISTORY. 

of  Catharine  and  Anjou  would  have  been  almost  impossible. 
Without  the  preaching  of  priests  and  friars  at  Lent  and 
Advent,  the  passions  of  the  low  populace  could  not  have  been 
inflamed  to  such  a  pitch  as  to  render  it  capable  of  perpe- 
trating atrocities  which  will  forever  render  the  reign  of 
Charles  IX  infamous  in  the  French  annals. 


One  of  the  most  vivid  accounts  of  the  massacre  in  any  city  outside  of 
Paris  is  the  contemporary  narrative  of  Johann  Wilhelm  von  Botzheim,  a 
young  German,  who  was  at  the  time  pursuing  his  studies  in  Orleans.  It 
forms  the  sequel  to  the  description  of  the  Parisian  massacre,  to  which 
reference  has  already  been  made  several  times,  and  was  first  published 
by  Dr.  F.  W.  Ebeling,  in  his  "  Archivalische  Beitrage  zur  Geschichte 
Franlcreichs  unter  Carl  IX."  (Leipsic.  1872).  129-189.  It  was  also  trans- 
lated into  French  by  M.  Charles  Read,  for  the  number  of  the  Bulletin  de 
la  Societd  de  I'histoire  du  protestantisme  frangais  issued  on  the  occasion 
of  the  tercentenary  of  the  Massacre  of  St.  Bartholomew's  Day.  The  chief 
interest  of  the  narration  centers  in  the  anxieties  and  dangers  of  the  little 
community  of  Germans  in  attendance  upon  the  famous  law  school.  Be- 
sides this,  however,  much  light  is  thrown  upon  the  general  features  of  the 
bloody  transactions.  The  first  intimation  of  Coligny's  wounding  reached 
the  Protestants  as  they  were  returning  from  the  preche,  but  created  less 
excitement  because  of  the  statement  accompanying  it,  that  Charles  was 
greatly  displeased  at  the  occurrence.  That  night  a  messenger  arrived  with 
letters  addressed  to  the  provost  of  the  city,  announcing  the  death  of  the 
admiral  and  the  Huguenots  of  Paris,  and  enjoining  the  like  execution  at 
Orleans.  Although  the  letters  bore  the  royal  seal,  the  information  they 
contained  appeared  so  incredible  that  the  provost  commanded  the  mes- 
senger to  be  imprisoned  until  two  captains,  whom  he  at  once  dispatched 
to  Paris,  returned  bringing  full  confirmation  of  the  story.  The  provost,  a 
man  averse  to  bloodshed,  issued,  early  on  Monday  morning,  as  a  pre- 
cautionary measure,  an  order  to  guard  the  city  gates.  But  the  control  of 
affairs  rapidly  passed  out  of  his  hands;  and,  threatened  with  death  be- 
cause of  his  moderate  counsels,  the  provost  was  himself  forced  to  take 
refuge  for  safety  in  the  citadel.  Ten  captains,  at  the  head  of  as  many 
bands  of  soldiers,  ruled  the  city,  and  were  foremost  in  the  work  of  murder 
and  rapine  that  now  ensued.  But  there  were  other  bands  engaged  in  the 
same  occupation,  not  to  speak  of  single  persons  acting  strictly  on  their 
own  account.  Moreover,  four  hundred  ruffians  came  in  from  the  country, 
intent  upon  making  up  for  losses  which  they  pretended  to  have  sustained 
during  the  late  civil  wars.  They  showed  no  mercy  to  the  Huguenots  that 
fell  into  their  hands.  Of  the  Protestants  scarcely  one  made  resistance,  so 
hopeless  was  their  situation.  Pierre  Pillier,  a  bell-founder,  had  indeed 
barred  his  door  with  iron ;  but,  finding  that  his  assailants  were  on  the 
point  of  forcing  the  entrance,  he  first  threw  his  money  from  a  window, 
and  then,  seizing  his  opportunity  when  the  miscreants  were  scrambling 
for  their  prize,  deluged  them  with  molten  lead;  after  which  he  set  fire  to 
bis  house,  and  perished,  with  his  wife  and  children,  in  the  flames. 

There  is,  happily,  no  need  of  repeating  here  the  shocking  details  of  the 


MASSACRE   OF   ST.    BARTHOLOMEW'S   DAY.  119 

butchery  told  by  the  student.  As  a  German,  and  not  generally  known 
to  be  a  Protestant,  he  managed  to  escape  the  fate  of  his  Huguenot  friends, 
but  he  witnessed,  and  was  forced  to  appear  to  applaud,  the  most  revolting^ 
exhibitions  both  of  cruelty  and  of  selfishness.  His  favorite  professor,  the 
venerable  Francois  Taillebois,  after  having  been  twice  plundered  by  bands 
of  marauders,  was  treacherously  conducted  by  the  second  band  to  the 
Loire,  dispatched  with  the  dagger,  and  thrown  into  the  river.  "  The  last 
lecture,  which  he  gave  on  Monday  at  nine  o'clock,"  Bays  his  pupil,  "  was 
on  the  Lix  Cornelia  [de  sicariis]  of  which  he  made  the  demonstration  by 
the  sacrifice  of  his  own  life."  It  is  pitiful  to  read  that  even  professors  in 
the  university  were  not  ashamed  to  enrich  their  libraries  by  the  plunder 
of  the  law-books  of  their  colleagues,  or  of  their  scholars.  The  writer  traced 
his  own  copies  of  Alciat,  of  Mynsinger  and  "  Speculator,"  to  the  shelves 
of  Laurent  Godefroid,  Professor  of  the  Pandects,  and  the  entire  library  of 
his  brother  Bernhard  to  those  of  his  neighbor,  Dr.  Beaupied,  Professor 
of  Canon  Law. 

In  the  midst  of  the  almost  universal  unchaining  of  the  worst  passions 
of  human  or  demoniacal  nature,  it  is  pleasant  to  note  a  few  exceptions. 
Some  Roman  Catholics  were  found  not  only  unwilling  to  imbrue  their 
hands  in  the  blood  of  their  Huguenot  neighbors  and  friends,  but  actually 
ready  to  incur  personal  peril  in  rescuing  them  from  assassination.  Such 
magnanimity,  however,  was  very  rare.  All  respect  for  authority  human 
or  divine,  all  sense  of  shame  or  pity,  all  fear  of  hell  and  hope  of  heaven, 
seemed  to  have  been  obliterated  from  the  breasts  of  the  murderers.  The 
blasphemous  words  of  the  furious  Captain  Gaillard.  when  opposed  in  his 
plan  to  destroy  Botrheim  and  his  fellow  Germans,  truly  expressed  the 
sentiments  which  others  might  possibly  have  hesitated  to  utter  so  dis- 
tinctly :  "  Par  la  mort  Dieu !  il  faut  qu'il  soit.  ...  II  n'y  a  ny  Dieu,. 
ny  diable,  ny  juge  qui  me  puisse  commander.  Vostre  vie  eat  en  ma 
puissance,  il  fault  mourir.  .  .  .  Baillezmoy  mon  espee,  je  tuerai 
1'ung  apres  1'autre,  je  ne  saurois  tuer  trestous  a  la  fois  avec  la  pistolle." 
Men,  with  blood-stained  hands  and  clothes,  boasted  over  their  cups  of  hav- 
ing plundered  and  murdered  thirty,  forty,  fifty  men  each.  At  last,  on  Satur- 
day afternoon,  after  the  Huguenots  had  been  almost  all  killed,  an  edict  was 
published  prohibiting  murder  and  pillage  on  pain  of  death.  Gallows,  too, 
were  erected  in  nearly  every  street  to  hang  the  disobedient ;  but  not  a 
man  was  hung,  and  the  murders  still  continued.  Soon  after  a  second 
edict  directed  the  restoration  of  stolen  property  to  its  rightful  owners; 
it  was  a  mere  trick  to  entice  any  remaining  Huguenot  from  his  refuge 
and  secure  his  apprehension  and  death.  The  Huguenots  were  not  even  able 
to  recover,  at  a  later  time,  the  property  they  had  intrusted  to  their 
Roman  Catholic  friends  in  time  of  danger,  and  did  not  dare  to  bring 
the  latter  before  courts  of  justice.  The  Huguenots  killed  at  Orleans,  in 
this  writer's  opinion,  were  at  least  fifteen  hundred,  perhaps  even  two 
thousand,  in  number. 

The  Pope's  anxiety  that  Charles  should  pursue  his  work  of  exter- 
mination to  the  bitter  end  is  but  too  clearly  attested.  In  the  bull  pro- 
claiming a  jubilee,  Gregory  recites  his  visit,  in  company  with  his  venerable 
brethren  the  cardinals,  to  the  church  of  San  Marco,  and  declares  his 
object  to  have  been  not  merely  to  render  thanks  to  God  Almighty,  but 
to  beseech  Him  "  of  His  immense  goodness  to  deign  to  preserve  and  guard 


120  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

the  king  in  the  prosecution  of  so  pious  and  salutary  a  design,""  and  to 
minister  to  his  majesty  "  strength  to  purge  his  heretofore  very  religious 
kingdom  of  most  pestilential  heresies,  and  restore  it  to  the  pristine 
worship  of  the  Catholic  religion."  In  the  same  document  the  faithful 
are  enjoined  to  supplicate  Heaven  that  what  the  most  Christian  king  "  has 
by  divine  suggestion  (Deo  auctore)  resolved  to  do,  he  may  have  the  power, 
with  God's  assistance  (ipso  operante),  to  fulfil."  (See  the  text  in  Lord 
Acton's  letter  to  the  London  Times,  of  Nov.  24,  1874.)  By  his  nuncio, 
and  subsequently  by  his  special  legate,  Orsini,  the  pontiff,  while  expressing 
his  delight  at  "  the  glorious  and  truly  incomparable  achievement "  of 
Charles,  repeatedly  reminded  his  majesty  of  the  promise  which  he  had 
given  Salviati,  that  soon  (infra  pochi  giorni)  not  a  single  Huguenot  should 
remain  in  all  his  dominions.  (Dispatch  of  Orsini,  apud  Acton,  ubi  supra.) 
Meanwhile  there  is,  unfortunately,  no  room  for  doubt  that  the  Pope  was 
fully  aware  of  the  true  character  of  the  massacre.  He  knew  that  it  was 
justified  by  no  discovery  of  a  conspiracy  to  kill  the  king  and  his  brothers. 
The  first  dispatch  of  Salviati,  dated  August  24,  read  in  the  consistory 
of  September  6  (see  the  letter  from  Rome  appended  to  Capilupi,  ed.  of 
1574,  p.  84),  contains  no  allusion  to  such  a  discovery  (see  the  dispatch 
in  Mackintosh,  iii.  App.  G).  The  dispatch  of  September  2  referred,  indeed, 
to  the  pretended  discovery  of  a  Protestant  plot,  but  denounced  it  as  not 
only  false  but  absurd  in  the  extreme.  "  Cela  n'en  demeurera  pas  moins 
faux  en  tous  points,  et  ce  serait  une  honte  pour  quiconque  est  a  meme 
de  connaitre  quelque  chose  aux  affaires  de  ce  monde  de  le  croire."  (Cha- 
teaubriand's trans,  apud  Acton,  ubi  supra.) 


The  Bloody  Mary. 

Froude's  History  of  England. 

After  reading  the  story  of  this  bloody  persecution,  can  any 
one  feel  surprise  that  the  English  people  have  decided  never 
again  to  experiment  with  a  ruler  who  is  subject  to  the  dark 
and  gloomy  superstition  of  the  Roman  papacy?  To  see  this 
poor  woman  duped  by  blasphemous  priests  and  driven  on  by 
an  ignorant  zeal,  fanned  to  a  frenzy  by  designing  prelates, 
blinded  by  a  more  than  strange  enchantment  to  consider  her 
best  friends  her  worst  enemies,  and  her  worst  enemies  her  best 
friends,  is  it  not  to  see  a  human  soul  in  the  power  of  fiends? 
The  spiritual  advisors  who  guided  Mary  have  made  her  an 
object  of  the  ridicule  of  the  world,  but  we  cannot  but  pity  the 
deceived  woman  rendered  so  abjectly  miserable  by  such  vile 
fanaticism. 

The  court  and  the  bishops,  however,  were  for  the  present 
absolute  in  their  own  province.  The  persecuting  acts  were 
once  more  upon  the  Statute  Book;  and  when  the  realities 
of  the  debates  in  Parliament  had  disappeared,  the  cardinal 
and  the  Queen  could  again  give  the  rein  to  their  imagina- 
tion. They  had  called  up  a  phantom  out  of  its  grave,  and 
they  persuaded  themselves  that  they  were  witnessing  the 
resurrection  of  the  spirit  of  truth,  that  heresy  was  about  to 


THE   BLOODY    MARY.  121 

vanish  from  off  the  English  soil,  like  an  exhalation  of  the 
morning,  at  the  brightness  of  the  papal  return.  The  chan- 
cellor and  the  clergy  were  springing  at  the  leash  like  hounds 
with  the  game  in  view,  fanaticism  and  revenge  lashing  them 
forward.  If  the  temporal  schemes  of  the  court  were 
thwarted,  it  was,  perhaps,  because  Heaven  desired  that  ex- 
clusive attention  should  be  given  first  to  the  salvation  of 
souls. 

For  all  past  political  offenses,  therefore,  there  was  now 
an  amnesty,  and  such  prisoners  as  remained  unexecuted  for 
Wyatt's  conspiracy  were  released  from  the  Tower  on  the 
i8th  of  January  (1555).  On  the  25th  a  hundred- and  sixty 
priests  walked  in  procession  through  the  London  streets, 
chanting  litanies,  with  eight  bishops  walking  after  them, 
and  Bonner  carrying  the  host.  On  the  28th  the  cardinal 
issued  his  first  general  instructions.  The  bishops  were  di- 
rected to  call  together  their  clergy  in  every  diocese  in  Eng- 
land, and  to  inform  them  of  the  benevolent  love  of  the  Holy 
Father,  and  of  the  arrival  of  the  legate  with  powers  to  ab- 
solve them  from  their  guilt.  They  were  to  relate  the  acts 
of  the  late  parliament,  with  the  reconciliation  and  absolution 
of  the  Lords  and  Commons ;  and  they  were  to  give  general 
notice  that  authority  had  been  restored  to  the  ecclesiastical 
courts  to  proceed  against  the  enemies  of  the  faith,  and  punisR 
them  according  to  law. 

A  day  was  then  to  be  fixed  on  which  the  clergy  should 
appear  with  their  confessions,  and  be  received  into  the 
Church.  In  the  assignment  of  their  several  penances,  a  dis- 
tinction was  to  be  made  between  those  who  had  taught 
heresy,  and  those  who  had  merely  lapsed  into  it. 

When  the  clergy  had  been  reconciled,  they  were  again 
in  turn  to  exhort  the  laity  in  all  churches  and  cathedrals 
to  accept  the  grace  which  was  offered  to  them ;  and  that 
they  might  understand  that  they  were  not  at  liberty  to  refuse 
the  invitation,  a  time  was  assigned  to  them  within  which 
their  submissions  must  be  all  completed.  A  book  was  to  be 
kept  in  every  diocese  where  the  names  of  those  who  were 
received  were  to  be  entered.  A  visitation  was  to  be  held 
throughout  the  country  at  the  end  of  the  spring,  and  all  who 
had  not  complied  before  Easter  Day,  or  who,  after  compli- 


122  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

ance,  "  had  returned  to  their  vomit,"  would  be  proceeded 
against  with  the  utmost  severity  of  the  law. 

The  introduction  of  the  Register  was  the  Inquisition 
tinder  another  name.  There  was  no  limit,  except  in  the 
humanity  or  the  prudence  of  the  bishops,  to  the  tyranny 
which  they  would  be  enabled  to  exercise.  The  cardinal 
professed  to  desire  that,  before  heretics  were  punished  with 
death,  mild  means  should  first  be  tried  with  them;  the  mean- 
ing which  he  attached  to  the  words  was  illustrated  in  an 
instant  example. 

The  instructions  were  the  signal  for  the  bishops  to  com- 
mence business.  On  the  day  of  their  appearance  Gardiner, 
Bonner,  Tunstal,  and  three  other  prelates,  formed  a  court 
in  St.  Mary  Overy's  Church,  in  Southwark;  and  Hooper, 
and  Rogers,  a  canon  of  St.  Paul's,  were  brought  up  before 
them. 

Rogers  had  been  distinguished  in  the  first  bright  days  of 
Protestantism.  He  had  been  a  fellow-laborer  with  Tyndal 
and  Coverdale,  at  Antwerp,  in  the  translation  of  the  Bible. 
Afterwards,  taking  a  German  wife,  he  lived  for  a  time  at 
Wittenberg,  not  unknown,  we  may  be  sure,  to  Martin  Luther. 
On  the  accession  of  Edward,  he  returned  to  England,  and 
worked  among  the  London  clergy  till  the  end  of  the  reign; 
and  on  Mary's  accession  he  was  one  of  the  preachers  at 
Paul's  Cross  who  had  dared  to  speak  against  the  reaction. 
He  had  been  rebuked  by  the  council,  and  his  friends  had 
urged  him  to  fly,  but,  like  Cranmer,  he  thought  that  duty  re- 
quired him  to  stay  at  his  post,  and,  in  due  time,  without, 
however,  having  given  fresh  provocation,  he  was  shut  up  in 
Newgate  by  Bonner. 

Hooper,  when  the  unfortunate  garment  controversy  was 
brought  to  an  end,  had  shown  by  his  conduct  in  his  diocese 
that  in  one  instance  at  least  doctrinal  fanaticism  was  com- 
patible with  the  loftiest  excellence.  While  the  great  world 
was  scrambling  for  the  church  property,  Hooper  was  found 
petitioning  the  council  for  leave  to  augment  impoverished 
livings  out  of  his  own  income.  In  the  hall  of  his  palace  at 
Gloucester  a  profuse  hospitality  was  offered  daily  to  those 
who  were  most  in  need  of  it.  The  poor  of  the  city  were  in- 
vited by  relays  to  solid  meat  dinners,  and  the  bishop  with  the 
courtesy  of  a  gentleman  dined  with  them,  and  treated  them 


THE   BLOODY    MARY.  123 

with  the  same  respect  as  if  they  had  been  the  highest  in  the 
land.  He  was  one  of  the  first  persons  arrested  after  Mary's 
accession,  and  the  cross  of  persecution  at  once  happily  made 
his  peace  with  Ridley.  In  an  affectionate  interchange  of 
letters,  the  two  confessors  exhorted  each  other  to  constancy 
in  the  end  which  both  foresaw,  determining  "  if  they  could 
not  overthrow,  at  least,  to  shake  those  high  altitudes "  of 
spiritual  tyranny.  The  Fleet  prison  had  now  been  Hooper's 
house  for  eighteen  months.  At  first,  on  payment  of  heavy 
fees  to  the  warden,  he  had  lived  in  some  degree  of  comfort; 
but  as  soon  as  his  deprivation  was  declared,  Gardiner  ordered 
that  he  should  be  confined  in  one  of  the  common  prisoners' 
wards ;  where  "  with  a  wicked  man  and  a  wicked  woman  " 
for  his  companions,  with  a  bed  of  straw  and  a  rotten  counter- 
pane, the  prison  sink  on  one  side  of  his  cell  and  Fleet  ditch 
on  the  other,  he  waited  till  it  would  please  Parliament  to- 
permit  the  dignitaries  of  the  Church  to  murder  him. 

These  were  the  two  persons  with  whom  the  Marian  per- 
secution opened.  On  their  appearance  in  the  court,  they 
were  required  briefly  to  make  their  submission.  They  at- 
tempted to  argue:  but  they  were  told  that  when  Parliament 
had  determined  a  thing,  private  men  were  not  to  call  it  in 
question,  and  they  were  allowed  twenty-four  hours  to  make 
up  their  minds.  As  they  were  leaving  the  church,  Hooper 
was  heard  to  say,  "  Come,  brother  Rogers,  must  we  two 
take  this  matter  first  in  hand  and  fry  these  fagots?"  "Yea, 
sir,  with  God's  grace,"  Rogers  answered.  "  Doubt  not," 
Hooper  said,  "  but  God  will  give  us  strength." 

They  were  remanded  to  prison.  The  next  morning  they 
were  brought  again  before  the  court.  "  The  Queen's  mercy  " 
was  offered  them,  if  they  would  recant.  They  refused,  and 
they  were  sentenced  to  die.  Rogers  asked  to  be  allowed  to 
take  leave  of  his  wife  and  children.  Gardiner,  with  a  savage 
taunt,  refused.  The  day  of  execution  was  left  uncertain. 
They  were  sent  to  Newgate  to  wait  the  Queen's  pleasure. 
On  the  3Oth,  Taylor  of  Hadley,  Laurence  Sandars,  rector 
of  All  Hallows,  and  the  illustrious  Bradford,  were  passed 
through  the  same  forms  with  the  same  results.  Another,  a 
notorious  preacher,  called  Cardmaker,  flinched,  and  made  his 
submission. 

Rogers  was  to  "  break  the  ice,"  as  Bradford  described  it 


124  THE   VOICE  OF    HISTORY. 

On  the  morning  of  the  4th  of  February  the  wife  of  the 
keeper  of  Newgate  came  to  his  bedside.  He  was  sleeping 
soundly,  and  she  woke  him  with  difficulty  to  let  him  know 
that  he  was  wanted.  The  Bishop  of  London  was  waiting, 
she  said,  to  degrade  him  from  the  priesthood,  and  he  was 
then  to  go  out  and  die.  Rubbing  his  eyes,  and  collecting 
himself,  he  hurried  on  his  clothes.  "  If  it  be  thus,"  he  said, 
"  I  need  not  tie  my  points."  Hooper  had  been  sent  for  also 
for  the  ceremony  of  degradation.  The  vestments  used  in  the 
mass  were  thrown  over  them,  and  were  then  one  by  one  re- 
moved. They  were  pronounced  deposed  from  the  priestly 
office,  incapable  of  offering  further  sacrifice — except,  indeed, 
the  only  acceptable  sacrifice  which  man  can  ever  offer,  the 
sacrifice  of  himself.  Again  Rogers  entreated  permission  to 
see  his  wife,  and  again  he  was  refused. 

The  two  friends  were  then  parted.  Hooper  was  to  suffer 
at  Gloucester,  and  returned  to  his  cell ;  Rogers  was  com- 
mitted to  the  sheriff,  and  led  out  to  Smithfield.  The  Catholics 
had  affected  to  sneer  at  the  faith  of  their  rivals.  There  was 
a  general  conviction  among  them,  which  was  shared  probably 
by  Pole  and  Gardiner,  that  the  Protestants  would  all  flinch 
at  the  last ;  that  they  had  no  "  doctrine  that  would  abide  the 
fire."  When  Rogers  appeared,  therefore,  the  exultation  of 
the  people  in  his  constancy  overpowered  the  horror  of  his 
fate,  and  he  was  received  with  rounds  of  cheers.  His  family, 
whom  he  was  forbidden  to  part  with  in  private,  were  waiting 
on  the  way  to  see  him, — his  wife  with  nine  little  ones  at  her 
side  and  a  tenth  upon  her  breast, — and  they,  too,  welcomed 
him  with  hysterical  cries  of  joy,  as  if  he  were  on  his  way 
to  a  festival.  Sir  Robert  Rochester  was  in  attendance  at  the 
stake  to  report  his  behavior.  At  the  last  moment  he  was 
offered  pardon  if  he  would  give  way,  but  in  vain.  The  fire 
was  lighted.  The  suffering  seemed  to  be  nothing.  He  bathed 
his  hands  in  the  flame  as  "  if  it  was  cold  water,"  raised  his 
eyes  to  heaven,  and  died. 

The  same  night  a  party  of  the  royal  guard  took  charge  of 
Hooper,  the  order  of  whose  execution  was  arranged  by  a 
mandate  from  the  crown.  As  "  an  obstinate,  false,  and  de- 
testible  heretic,"  he  was  to  be  burned  in  the  city  "  which  he 
had  infected  with  his  pernicious  doctrines ;"  and  "  foras- 
much as  being  a  vainglorious  person,  and  delighting  in  his 


THE   BLOODY    MARY.  125 

tongue,"  he  "  might  persuade  the  people  into  agreement  with 
him,  had  he  liberty  to  use  it,"  care  was  to  be  taken  that  he 
should  not  speak  either  at  the  stake  or  on  his  way  to  it.  He 
was  carried  down  on  horseback  by  easy  stages;  and  on  the 
forenoon  of  Thursday,  the  7th,  he  dined  at  Cirencester,  "  at 
a  woman's  house  who  had  always  hated  the  truth,  and  spoken 
all  evil  she  could  of  him."  This  woman  had  shared  in  the 
opinion  that  Protestants  had  no  serious  convictions,  and  had 
often  expressed  her  belief  that  Hooper,  particularly,  would 
fail  if  brought  to  the  trial.  She  found  that  both  in  him  and 
in  his  creed  there  was  more  than  she  had  supposed ;  and 
"  perceiving  the  cause  of  his  coming,  she  lamented  his  case 
with  tears,  and  showed  him  all  the  friendship  she  could." 

At  five  in  the  evening  he  arrived  at  Gloucester.  The 
road,  for  a  mile  outside  the  town,  was  lined  with  people,  and 
the  mayor  was  in  attendance,  with  an  escort,  to  prevent  a 
rescue.  But  the  feeling  was  rather  of  awe  and  expectation, 
and  those  who  loved  Hooper  best  knew  that  the  highest 
service  which  he  could  render  to  his  faith  was  to  die  for  it. 

A  day's  interval  of  preparation  was  allowed  him,  with  a 
private  room.  He  was  in  the  custody  of  the  sheriff ;  "  and 
there  was  this  difference  observed  between  the  keepers  of  the 
bishops'  prisons  and  the  keepers  of  the  crown  prisons,  that 
the  bishops'  keepers  were  ever  cruel;  the  keepers  of  the 
crown  prisons  showed,  for  the  most  part,  such  favor  as  they 
might."  After  a  sound  night's  rest,  Hooper  rose  early,  and 
passed  the  morning  in  solitary  prayer.  In  the  course  of  the 
day,  young  Sir  Anthony  Kingston,  one  of  the  commissioners 
appointed  to  superintend  the  execution,  expressed  a  wish  to 
see  him.  Kingston  was  an  old  acquaintance,  Hooper  having 
been  the  means  of  bringing  him  out  of  evil  ways.  He  entered 
the  room  unannounced.  Hooper  was  on  his  knees,  and,  look- 
ing around  at  the  intruder,  did  not  at  first  know  him. 
Kingston  told  him  his  name,  and  then,  bursting  into  tears, 
said : — 

"  Oh,  consider ;  life  is  sweet  and  death  is  bitter ;  there- 
fore, seeing  life  may  be  had,  desire  to  live,  for  life  hereafter 
may  do  good." 

Hooper  answered: — 

"  I  thank  you  for  your  counsel,  yet  it  is  not  so  friendly  as 
I  could  have  wished  it  to  be.  True  it  is,  alas !  Master 


126  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

Kingston,  that  death  is  bitter  and  life  is  sweet;  therefore  I 
have  settled  myself,  through  the  strength  of  God's  Holy 
Spirit,  patiently  to  pass  through  the  fire  prepared  for  me, 
desiring  you  and  others  to  commend  me  to  God's  mercy  in 
your  prayers." 

"  Well,  my  Lord,"  said  Kingston,  "  then  there  is  no  rem- 
edy, and  I  will  take  my  leave.  I  thank  God  that  ever  I  knew 
you,  for  God  appointed  you  to  call  me,  being  a  lost  child.  I 
was  both  an  adulterer  and  a  fornicator,  and  God,  by  your 
good  instruction,  brought  me  to  the  forsaking  of  the  same." 

They  parted,  the  tears  on  both  their  faces.  Other  friends 
were  admitted  afterwards.  The  Queen's  orders  were  little 
thought  of,  for  Hooper  had  won  the  hearts  of  the  guard  on 
his  way  from  London.  In  the  evening  the  mayor  and  alder- 
men came,  with  the  sheriffs,  to  shake  hands  with  him.  "  It 
was  a  sign  of  their  good  will,"  he  said,  "  and  a  proof  that  they 
had  not  forgotten  the  lessons  which  he  used  to  teach  them." 
He  begged  the  sheriffs  that  there  might  be  "  a  quick  fire  to 
make  an  end  shortly;"  and  for  himself  he  would  be  as 
obedient  as  they  could  wish. 

"  If  you  think  I  do  amiss  in  anything,"  he  said,  "  hold 
tip  your  fingers,  and  I  have  done;  for  I  am  not  come  hither 
as  one  enforced  or  compelled  to  die;  I  might  have  had  my 
life,  as  is  well  known,  with  worldly  gain,  if  I  would  have 
accounted  my  doctrine  falsehood  and  heresy." 

In  the  evening,  at  his  own  request,  he  was  left  alone. 
He  slept  undisturbed  the  early  part  of  the  night.  From  the 
time  that  he  woke  till  the  guard  entered,  he  was  on  his 
Icnees. 

The  morning  was  windy  and  wet.  The  scene  of  the  exe- 
cution was  an  open  space  opposite  the  college,  near  a  large 
elm  tree,  where  Hooper  had  been  accustomed  to  preach. 
Several  thousand  people  were  collected  to  see  him  suffer; 
some  had  climbed  the  tree,  and  were  seated  in  the  storm  and 
rain  among  the  leafless  branches.  A  company  of  priests  were 
in  a  room  over  the  college  gates,  looking  out  with  pity  or 
satisfaction,  as  God  or  the  devil  was  in  their  hearts. 

"  Alas !  "  said  Hooper,  when  he  was  brought  out,  "  why 
be  all  these  people  assembled  here,  and  speech  is  prohibited 
me  ? "  He  had  suffered  in  prison  from  sciatica,  and  was 
lame,  but  he  limped  cheerfully  along  with  a  stick,  and  smiled 


THE   BLOODY    MARY.  127 

when  he  saw  the  stake.  At  the  foot  of  it  he  knelt;  and  as 
he  began  to  pray,  a  box  was  brought,  and  placed  on  a  stool 
before  his  eyes,  which  he  was  told  contained  his  pardon  if 
he  would  recant. 

"  Away  with  it !  "    Hooper  only  cried ;   "  away  with  it !  " 

"  Dispatch  him,  then,"  Lord  Chandos  said,  "  seeing  there 
is  no  remedy." 

He  was  undressed  to  his  shirt,  in  the  cold;  a  pound  of 
gunpowder  was  tied  between  his  legs,  and  as  much  more 
under  either  arm ;  he  was  fastened  with  an  iron  hoop  to  the 
stake,  and  he  assisted  with  his  own  hands  to  arrange  the 
fagots  round  him. 

The  fire  was  then  brought,  but  the  wood  was  green;  the 
dry  straw  only  kindled,  and  burning  for  a  few  moments  was 
blown  away  by  the  wind.  A  violent  flame  paralyzed  the 
nerves  at  once,  a  slow  one  was  torture.  More  fagots  were 
thrown  in,  and  again  lighted,  and  this  time  the  martyr's  face 
was  singed  and  scorched ;  but  again  the  flames  sank,  and 
the  hot  damp  sticks  smoldered  round  his  legs.  He  wiped  his 
eyes  with  his  hands,  and  cried,  "  For  God's  love,  good  people, 
let  me  have  more  fire !  "  A  third  supply  of  dry  fuel  was  laid 
about  him,  and  this  time  the  powder  exploded,  but  it  had 
been  ill-placed,  or  was  not  enough.  "  Lord  Jesu,  have  mercy 
on  me!"  he  exclaimed;  "Lord  Jesu,  receive  my  spirit!" 
These  were  his  last  articulate  words;  but  his  lips  were  long 
seen  to  move,  and  he  continued  to  beat  his  breast  with  his 
hands.  It  was  not  till  after  three  quarters  of  an  hour  of 
torment  that  he  at  last  expired. 

The  same  day,  at  the  same  hour,  Rowland  Taylor  was 
burned  on  Aldham  Common,  in  Suffolk.  Laurence  Sandars 
had  been  destroyed  the  day  before  at  Coventry,  kissing  the 
stake,  and  crying  "  Welcome,  the  cross  of  Christ !  Welcome, 
everlasting  life !  "  The  first-fruits  of  the  Whitehall  pageant 
were  gathered.  By  the  side  of  the  rhetoric  of  the  hysterical 
dreamer  who  presided  in  that  vain  melodrama,  let  me  place 
a  few  words  addressed  by  the  murdered  Bishop  of  Gloucester 
to  his  friends,  a  week  before  his  sentence. 

"  The  grace  of  God  be  with  you,  Amen.  I  did  write  unto 
you  of  late,  and  told  you  what  extremity  the  Parliament  had 
concluded  upon  concerning  religion,  suppressing  the  truth, 
and  setting  forth  the  untruth,  intending  to  cause  all  men,  by 


128  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

extremity  to  forswear  themselves,  and  to  take  again  for  the 
head  of  the  Church  him  that  is  neither  head  nor  member  of 
it,  but  a  very  enemy,  as  the  Word  of  God  and  all  ancient 
writers  do  record.  And  for  lack  of  law  and  authority  they 
will  use  force  and  extremity,  which  have  been  the  arguments 
to  defend  the  Pope  and  Popery  since  their  authority  first 
began  in  the  world.  But  now  is  the  time  of  trial,  to  see 
whether  we  fear  more  God  or  man.  It  was  an  easy  thing  to 
hold  with  Christ  whilst  the  prince  and  the  world  held  with 
Him;  but  now  the  world  hateth  Him,  it  is  the  true  trial  who 
be  His. 

"  Wherefore  in  the  name,  and  in  the  virtue,  strength,  and 
power  of  His  Holy  Spirit,  prepare  yourselves  in  any  case  to 
adversity  and  constancy.  Let  us  not  run  away  when  it  is 
most  time  to  fight.  Remember,  none  shall  be  crowned  but 
such  as  fight  manfully ;  and  he  that  endureth  to  the  end  shall 
be  saved.  Ye  must  now  turn  your  cogitations  from  the 
perils  you  see,  and  mark  the  felicity  that  followeth  the 
peril— either  victory  in  this  world  of  your  enemies,  or  else 
a  surrender  of  this  life  to  inherit  the  everlasting  kingdom. 
Beware  of  beholding  too  much  the  felicity  or  misery  of  this 
world;  for  the  consideration  and  too  earnest  love  or  fear  of 
either  of  them  draweth  from  God.  Wherefore  think  with 
yourselves  as  touching  the  felicity  of  the  world,  it  is  good; 
but  none  otherwise  than  it  standeth  with  the  favor  of  God; 
it  is  to  be  kept,  but  yet  so  far  forth  as  by  keeping  it  we  lose 
not  God.  It  is  good  abiding  and  tarrying  still  among  our 
friends  here,  but  yet  so  that  we  tarry  not  therewithal 
in  God's  displeasure,  and  hereafter  dwell  with  the  devils  in 
fire  everlasting.  There  is  nothing  under  God  but  may  be 
kept,  so  that  God,  being  above  all  things  we  have,  be  not  lost. 
Of  adversity  judge  the  same.  Imprisonment  is  painful,  but 
yet  liberty  upon  evil  conditions  is  more  painful.  The  prisons 
stink,  but  yet  not  so  much  as  sweet  houses,  where  the  fear  and 
true  honor  of  God  lack.  I  must  be  alone  and  solitary;  it  is 
better  so  to  be,  and  have  God  with  me,  than  to  be  in  company 
with  the  wicked.  Loss  of  goods  is  great,  but  loss  of  God's 
grace  and  favor  is  greater.  I  am  a  poor  simple  creature, 
and  cannot  tell  how  to  answer  before  such  a  great  sort  of 
noble,  learned,  and  wise  men.  It  is  better  to  make  answer 
before  the  pomp  and  pride  of  wicked  men  than  to  stand 


THE   BLOODY    MARY.  129 

naked,  in  the  sight  of  all  heaven  and  earth,  before  the  just 
God  at  the  latter  day.  I  shall  die  by  the  hands  of  the  cruel 
men;  but  he  is  blessed  that  loseth  this  life  full  of  miseries, 
and  findeth  the  life  of  eternal  joys.  It  is  pain  and  grief  to 
depart  from  goods  and  friends;  but  yet  not  so  much  as  to 
depart  from  grace  and  heaven  itself.  Wherefore  there  is 
neither  felicity  nor  adversity  of  this  world  that  can  appear 
to  be  great  if  it  be  weighed  with  the  joys  or  pains  in  the 
world  to  come." 

Of  five  who  had  been  sentenced,  four  were  thus  dis- 
patched. Bradford,  the  fifth,  was  respited,  in  the  hope  that 
the  example  might  tell  upon  him.  Six  more  were  waiting 
their  condemnation  in  Bonner's  prisons.  The  enemies  of 
the  Church  were  to  submit  or  die.  So  said  Gardiner,  in 
the  name  of  the  English  priesthood,  with  the  passion  of  a 
fierce  revenge.  So  said  the  legate  and  the  Queen,  in  the 
delirious  belief  that  they  were  chosen  instruments  of  Provi- 
dence. 

So,  however,  did  not  say  the  English  lay  statesmen.  The 
first  and  unexpected  effect  was  to  produce  a  difference  of 
opinion  in  the  court  itself.  Philip,  to  whom  Renard  had  in- 
sisted on  the  necessity  of  more  moderate  measures,  found  it 
necessary  to  clear  himself  of  responsibility:  and  the  day 
after  Hooper  suffered,  Alphonso  a  Castro,  the  King's 
chaplain,  preached  a  sermon  in  the  royal  presence,  in  which 
he  denounced  the  execution,  and  inveighed  against  the 
tyranny  of  the  bishops.  The  Lords  of  the  Council  "  talked 
strangely;"  and  so  deep  was  the  indignation  that  the  Flemish 
ambassador  again  expected  Gardiner's  destruction.  Paget 
refused  to  act  with  him  in  the  council  any  more,  and  Philip 
himself  talked  more  and  more  of  going  abroad.  Renard, 
from  the  tone  of  his  correspondence,  believed  evidently  at 
this  moment  that  the  game  of  the  Church  was  played  out 
and  lost.  He  wrote  to  the  Emperor  to  entreat  that  when  the 
King  went  he  might  not  himself  be  left  behind :  he  was  held 
responsible  by  the  people  for  the  Queen's  misdoings;  and  a 
party  of  the  young  nobility  had  sworn  to  kill  him. 

Among  the  people  the  constancy  of  the  martyrs  had  called 
out  a  burst  of  admiration.  It  was  rumored  that  bystanders 
had  endeavored  to  throw  themselves  into  the  fire  to  die  at 
their  side.  A  prisoner,  on  examination  before  Bonner,  was 


130  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

asked  if  he  thought  he  could  bear  the  flame.  You  may  try 
me,  if  you  will,  he  said.  A  candle  was  brought,  and  he  held 
his  hand,  without  flinching,  in  the  blaze.  With  such  a 
humor  abroad,  it  seemed  to  Renard  that  the  Lords  had  only 
to  give  the  signal,  and  the  Queen  and  the  bishops  would 
be  overwhelmed. 

He  expected  the  movement  in  the  spring.  It  is  singular 
that  precisely  as  in  the  preceding  winter,  the  deliberate  in- 
tentions of  moderate  and  competent  persons  were  anticipated 
and  defeated  by  a  partial  and  premature  conspiracy.  At  the 
end  of  February  a  confederate  revealed  a  project  for  an  in- 
surrection, partly  religious  and  partly  agrarian.  Placards 
•were  to  be  issued  simultaneously  in  all  parts  of  the  country, 
declaring  that  the  Queen's  pregnancy  was  a  delusion,  and 
that  she  intended  to  pass  upon  the  nation  a  supposititious 
child;  the  people  were,  therefore,  invited  to  rise  in  arms, 
drive  out  the  Spaniards,  revolutionize  religion,  tear  down 
the  enclosures  of  the  commons,  and  proclaim  Courtenay  king 
under  the  title  of  Edward  VII.  In  such  a  scheme  the  lords 
and  country  gentlemen  could  bear  no  part.  They  could  not 
risk  a  repetition  of  the  popular  rebellions  of  the  late  reign, 
and  they  resolved  to  wait  the  issue  of  the  Queen's  pregnancy, 
while  they  watched  over  the  safety  of  Elizabeth.  The  project 
of  the  court  was  now  to  send  her  to  Flanders,  where  she  was 
to  remain  under  charge  of  the  Emperor ;  if  possible,  she  was 
to  be  persuaded  to  go  thither  of  her  own  accord ;  if  she  could 
not  be  persuaded,  she  would  be  otherwise  removed.  Lord 
William  Howard,  her  constant  guardian,  requested  permis- 
sion to  see  and  speak  with  her,  and  learn  her  own  feelings. 
He  was  refused;  but  he  went  to  her  notwithstanding,  and 
had  a  long  private  interview  with  her;  and  the  court  could 
only  talk  bitterly  of  his  treason  among  themselves,  make 
propositions  to  send  him  to  the  Tower  which  they  durst  not 
execute,  and  devise  some  other  method  of  dealing  with  their 
difficulty. 

Meantime,  Philip,  who  had  pined  for  freedom  after  six 
weeks'  experience  of  his  bride,  was  becoming  unmanageably 
impatient.  A  paper  of  advice  and  exhortation  survives, 
which  was  addressed  on  this  occasion  by  the  ambassador  to 
his  master,  with  reflections  on  the  condition  of  England,  and 
on  the  conduct  which  the  king  should  pursue. 


THE   BLOODY    MARY.  131 

"  Your  Majesty  must  remember,"  said  Renard,  "  the  pur- 
pose for  which  you  came  to  England.  The  French  had  se- 
cured the  Queen  of  Scotland  for  the  Dauphin.  They  had 
afterwards  made  an  alliance  with  the  late  King,  and  spared 
no  pains  to  secure  the  support  of  England.  To  counteract 
their  schemes,  and  to  obtain  a  counteradvantage  in  the  war, 
the  Emperor,  on  the  accession  of  the  Queen,  resolved  that 
your  Highness  should  marry  her.  Your  Highness,  it  is 
true,  might  wish  that  she  was  more  agreeable;  but,  on  the 
other  hand,  she  is  infinitely  virtuous,  and,  things  being  as 
they  are,  your  Highness,  like  a  magnanimous  prince,  must  re- 
member her  condition,  and  exert  yourself,  so  far  as  you  con- 
veniently may,  to  assist  her  in  the  management  of  the 
kingdom. 

"  Your  Highness  must  consider  that  your  departure  will 
be  misrepresented,  your  enemies  will  speak  of  it  as  a  flight 
rather  than  as  a  necessary  absence.  The  French  will  be 
busy  with  their  intrigues,  and  the  Queen  will  not  be  pleased 
to  lose  you.  The  administration  is  in  confusion,  the  divisions 
in  the  council  are  more  violent  than  ever.  Religion  is  un- 
settled ;  the  heretics  take  advantage  of  these  late  barbarous 
punishments  to  say  that  they  are  to  be  converted  by  fire,  be- 
cause their  enemies  are  unable  to  convince  them  by  reason 
or  example.  The  orthodox  clergy  are  still  unreformed,  and 
their  scandalous  conduct  accords  ill  with  the  offices  to  which 
they  are  called. 

"  Further,  your  Highness  will  do  well  to  weigh  the  un- 
certainty of  the  succession.  Should  the  Queen's  pregnancy 
prove  a  mistake,  the  heretics  will  place  their  hopes  in  Eliza- 
beth :  and  here  you  are  in  a  difficulty  whatever  be  done ;  for 
if  Elizabeth  be  set  aside,  the  crown  will  go  to  the  Queen  of 
Scots;  if  she  succeed,  she  will  restore  heresy,  and  naturally 
attach  herself  to  France.  Some  step  must  be  taken  about 
this  before  you  leave  the  country;  and  you  must  satisfy  the 
Queen  that  you  will  assist  her  in  her  general  difficulties,  as  a 
good  lord  and  husband  ought  to  do. 

"  The  council  must  be  reformed,  if  possible,  and  tke  num- 
ber diminished ;  those  who  remain  must  be  invited  to  renew 
their  oaths  to  your  Majesty.  Regard  must  be  had  to  the 
navy,  and  especially  to  the  admiral  Lord  William  Howard; 
and  above  all  there  must  be  no  more  of  this  barbarous  pre- 


132  THE   VOICE  OF    HISTORY. 

cipitancy  in  putting  heretics  to  death.  The  people  must  be 
won  from  their  errors  by  gentleness  and  by  better  instruc- 
tion. Except  in  cases  of  especial  scandal,  the  bishops  must 
not  be  permitted  to  irritate  them  by  cruelty,  and  the  legate 
must  see  that  a  better  example  is  set  by  the  clergy  them- 
selves. The  debts  of  the  crown  must  be  attended  to;  and 
your  Majesty  should  endeavor  to  do  something  which  will 
give  you  popularity  with  the  masses.  Before  all  things,  at- 
tend to  the  succession. 

"  You  cannot  set  aside  the  dispositions  of  King  Henry 
in  favor  of  Elizabeth  without  danger  of  rebellion.  To  recog- 
nize her  as  heir  presumptive  without  providing  her  with  a 
husband,  who  can  control  her,  will  be  perilous  to  the  Queen. 
The  mean  course  between  the  extremes  will  be,  therefore,  for 
your  Highness  to  bring  about  her  marriage  with  the  Prince 
of  Savoy.  It  will  please  the  English,  provided  that  her 
rights  of  inheritance  are  not  interfered  with ;  and  although 
they  will  not  go  to  war  for  our  quarrel,  they  will  not  in  that 
case  be  unwilling  to  assist  in  expelling  the  French  from 
Piedmont. 

"  If  your  Majesty  approve,  the  thing  can  be  done  without 
delay.  At  all  events,  before  you  leave  the  country,  you 
should  see  the  Princess  yourself;  give  her  your  advice  to  be 
faithful  to  her  sister,  and,  on  your  part,  promise  that  you 
will  be  her  friend,  and  assist  her  where  you  can  find 
opportunity." 

THE  MARTYRS. 

The  protests  of  Renard  against  the  persecution  received 
no  attention. 

The  inquisition  established  by  the  legate  was  not  to  com- 
mence till  Easter;  but  the  prisons  were  already  abundantly 
supplied  with  persons  who  had  been  arrested  on  various 
pretexts,  and  the  material  was  ready  in  hand  to  occupy  the 
interval.  The  four  persons  who  had  first  suffered  had  been 
conspicuous  among  the  leaders  of  the  Reformation ;  but  the 
bishops  were  for  the  most  part  prudent  in  their  selection 
of  victims,  and  chose  them  principally  from  among  the  poor 
and  unfriended. 

On  the  Qth  of  February,  a  weaver  named  Tomkins  (the 
man  who  had  held  his  hand  in  the  candle),  Pigot,  a  butcher, 


THE   BLOODY    MARY.  133 

Knight,  a  barber,  Hunter,  an  apprentice  boy  of  19,  Lawrence, 
a  priest,  and  Hawkes,  a  gentleman,  were  brought  before 
Bonner  in  the  Consistory  at  St.  Paul's,  where  they  were 
charged  with  denying  transubstantiation,  and  were  con- 
demned to  die.  The  indignation  which  had  been  excited  by 
the  first  executions  caused  a  delay  in  carrying  th'e  sentence 
into  effect;  but  as  the  menace  of  insurrection  died  away, 
the  wolves  came  back  to  their  prey.  On  the  Qth  of  March, 
two  more  were  condemned  also,  Thomas  Causton  and 
Thomas  Higbed,  men  of  some  small  property  in  Essex.  To 
disperse  the  effect,  these  eight  were  scattered  about  the 
diocese.  Tomkins  died  at  Smithfield  on  the  i6th  of  March; 
Causton  and  Higbed,  Pigot  and  Knight,  in  different  parts  of 
Essex;  Hawkes  suffered  later;  Lawrence  was  burned  at 
Colchester.  The  legs  of  the  latter  had  been  crushed  by  irons 
in  one  of  Bonner's  prisons ;  he  was  unable  to  stand,  and  was 
placed  at  the  stake  in  a  chair.  "  At  his  burning,  he  sitting 
in  the  fire,  the  young  children  came  about  and  cried,  as  well 
as  young  children  could  speak,  Lord,  strengthen  Thy  serv»- 
ant,  and  keep  Thy  promise — Lord,  strengthen  Thy  servant, 
and  keep  Thy  promise." 

Hunter's  case  deserves  more  particular  mention.  The 
London  apprentices  had  been  affected  deeply  by  the  Reform- 
ing preachers.  It  was  to  them  that  the  servant  of  Anne 
Askew  "  made  her  moan,"  and  gathered  subscriptions  for 
her  mistress.  William  Hunter,  who  was  one  of  them,  had 
been  ordered  to  attend  mass  by  a  priest  when  it  was  re- 
established; he  had  refused,  and  his  master,  fearing  that 
he  might  be  brought  into  trouble,  had  sent  him  home  to 
his  family  at  Brentwood,  in  Essex.  Another  priest,  going 
one  day  into  Brentwood  Church,  found  Hunter  reading  the 
Bible  there. 

Could  he  expound  Scripture  that  he  read  it  thus  to  him- 
self? the  priest  asked.  He  was  reading  for  his  comfort, 
Hunter  replied;  he  did  not  take  on  himself  to  expound. 
The  Bible  taught  him  how  to  live,  and  how  to  distinguish 
between  right  and  wrong. 

It  was  never  merry  world,  the  priest  said,  since  the  Bible 
came  forth  in  English.  He  saw  what  Hunter  was — he  was 
one  of  those  who  disliked  the  Queen's  laws,  and  he  and 
other  heretics  would  broil  for  it  before  all  was  over. 


134  THE  VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

The  boy's  friends  thought  it  prudent  that  he  should  fly 
to  some  place  where  he  was  not  known ;  but  as  soon  as  he 
was  gone,  a  Catholic  magistrate  in  the  neighborhood  re- 
quired his  father  to  produce  him,  on  peril  of  being  arrested 
in  his  place;  and  after  a  struggle  of  affection,  in  which  the 
father  offered  to  shield  his  son  at  his  own  hazard,  young 
Hunter  returned  and  surrendered. 

The  magistrates  sent  him  to  the  Bishop  of  London,  who 
kept  him  in  prison  three-quarters  of  a  year.  When  the 
persecution  commenced,  he  was  called  up  for  examination. 

Bonner,  though  a  bigot  and  a  ruffian,  had,  at  times,  a 
coarse  good-nature  in  him,  and  often,  in  moments  of  pity, 
thrust  an  easy  recantation  upon  a  hesitating  prisoner.  He 
tried  with  emphatic  anxiety  to  save  this  young  apprentice. 
"  If  thou  wilt  recant,"  he  said  to  him,  "  I  will  make  thee  a 
freeman  in  the  city,  and  give  thee  forty  pounds  in  money  to 
set  up  thy  occupation  withal;  or  I  will  make  thee  steward 
of  mine  house,  and  set  thee  in  office,  for  I  like  thee  well." 

Hunter  thanked  him  for  his  kindness;  but  it  could  not 
be,  he  said;  he  must  stand  to  the  truth:  he  could  not  lie,  or 
pretend  to  believe  what  he  did  not  believe.  Bonner  said,  and 
probably  with  sincere  conviction,  that  if  he  persisted,  he 
would  be  damned  forever.  Hunter  said  that  God  judged 
more  righteously,  and  justified  those  whom  man  unjustly 
condemned. 

He  was  therefore  to  die  with  the  rest;  and  on  Saturday, 
the  23d  of  March,  he  was  sent  to  suffer  at  his  native  village. 
Monday  being  the  feast  of  the  Annunciation,  the  execution 
was  postponed  till  Tuesday.  The  intervening  time  he  was 
allowed  to  spend  with  his  friends  "  in  the  parlor  of  the  Swan 
Inn."  His  father  prayed  that  he  might  continue  to  the  end 
in  the  way  that  he  had  begun.  His  mother  said,  she  was 
happy  to  bear  a  child  who  could  find  in  his  heart  to  lose  his 
life  for  Christ's  sake.  "  Mother,"  he  answered,  "  for  my 
little  pain  which  I  shall  suffer,  which  is  but  a  short  braid, 
Christ  hath  promised  me  a  crown  of  joy.  May  you  not  be 
glad  of  that,  Mother?" 

Amidst  such  words  the  days  passed.  Tuesday  morning 
the  sheriff's  son  came  and  embraced  him,  "  bade  him  not  be 
afraid,"  and  "  could  speak  no  more  for  weeping."  When  the 
sheriff  came  himself  for  him,  he  took  his  brother's  arm  and 


THE   BLOODY    MARY.  135 

walked  calmly  to  the  place  of  execution,  "  at  the  town's  end, 
where  the  butts  stood." 

His  father  was  at  the  roadside  as  he  passed.  "  God  be 
with  thee,  son  William !  "  the  old  man  said.  "  God  be  with 
thee,  good  Father,"  the  son  answered,  "  and  be  of  good 
comfort !  " 

When  he  was  come  to  the  stake,  he  took  one  of  the  fagots, 
knelt  upon  it,  and  prayed  for  a  few  moments.  The  sheriff 
read  the  pardon  with  the  conditions.  "  I  shall  not  recant," 
he  said,  and  walked  to  the  post,  to  which  he  was  chained. 

"  Pray  for  me,  good  people,  while  you  see  me  alive,"  he 
said  to  the  crowd. 

"  Pray  for  thee ! "  said  the  magistrate  who  had  com- 
mitted him,  "  I  will  no  more  pray  for  thee  than  I  will  pray 
for  a  dog." 

"  Son  of  God,"  Hunter  exclaimed,  "  shine  on  me !  "  The 
sun  broke  out  from  behind  a  cloud  and  blazed  in  glory  on  his 
face. 

The  fagots  were  set  on  fire. 

"  Look,"  shrieked  a  priest,  "  how  thou  burnest  here,  so 
shalt  thou  burn  in  hell !  " 

The  martyr  had  a  prayer-book  in  his  hands,  which  he  cast 
through  the  flames  to  his  brother. 

"  William,"  said  the  brother,  "  think  on  the  holy  passion  of 
Christ,  and  be  not  afraid  of  death." 

"  I  am  not  afraid,"  were  his  last  words.  "  Lord,  Lord, 
Lord,  receive  my  spirit !  " 

Ten  days  later  another  victim  was  sacrificed  at  Carmar- 
then, whose  fate  was  peculiarly  unprovoked  and  cruel. 

Robert  Ferrars,  who  twenty-seven  years  before  carried  a 
fagot  with  Anthony  Dalaber  in  High  street  at  Oxford,  had 
been  appointed  by  Somerset  Bishop  of  St.  David's.  He 
was  a  man  of  large  humanity,  justice,  and  uprightness — 
neither  conspicuous  as  a  theologian  nor  prominent  as  a 
preacher,  but  remarkable  chiefly  for  good  sense  and  a  kindly 
imaginative  tenderness.  He  had  found  his  diocese  infected 
with  the  general  disorders  of  the  times.  The  Chapter  were 
indulging  themselves  to  the  utmost  in  questionable  pleasures ; 
the  church  patronage  was  made  the  prey  of  a  nest  of  cathe- 
dral lawyers;  and,  in  an  evil  hour  for  himself,  the  bishop 
endeavored  to  make  crooked  things  straight. 


136  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

After  three  years  of  struggle,  his  unruly  canons  were 
unable  to  endure  him  longer,  and  forwarded  to  the  Duke  of 
Northumberland  an  elaborate  series  of  complaints  against 
him.  He  was  charged  with  neglecting  his  books  and  his 
preaching,  and  spending  his  time  in  surveying  the  lands  of 
the  see,  and  opening  mines.  He  kept  no  manner  of  hospi- 
tality, it  was  said,  but  dined  at  the  same  table  with  his 
servants ;  and  his  talk  was,  "  not  of  godliness,  but  of  worldly 
matters,  as  baking,  brewing,  enclosing,  ploughing,  mining, 
millstones,  discharging  of  tenants,  and  such  like." 

"  To  declare  his  folly  in  riding  (these  are  the  literal 
words  of  the  accusation),  he  useth  a  bridle  with  white  studs 
and  snaffle,  with  Scottish  stirrups,  white  spurs;  a  Scottish 
pad,  with  a  little  staff  of  three  quarters  [of  a  yard]  long. 

"  He  said  he  would  go  to  Parliament  on  foot ;  and  to 
his  friends  that  dissuaded  him,  alleging  that  it  was  not  meet 
for  a  man  in  his  place,  he  answered,  I  care  not  for  that; 
it  is  no  sin. 

"  Having  a  son,  he  went  before  the  midwife  to  the  church, 
presenting  the  child  to  the  priest;  and  giving  the  name 
Samuel  with  a  solemn  interpretation  of  the  name,  appointed 
two  godfathers  and  two  godmothers  contrary  to  the  ordinance, 
making  his  son  a  monster  and  himself  a  laughing-stock. 

"  He  daily  useth  whistling  of  his  child,  and  saith  that  he 
understood  his  whistle  when  he  was  but  three  years  old;  and 
being  advertised  of  his  friends  that  men  laughed  at  his 
folly,  he  answered,  They  whistle  their  horses  and  dogs: 
they  might  also  be  contented  that  I  whistle  my  child;  and  so 
whistleth  him  daily,  friendly  admonition  neglected. 

"  In  his  visitation,  among  other  his  surveys,  he  surveyed 
Milford  Haven,  where  he  espied  a  seal-fish  tumbling,  and  he 
crept,  down  to  the  rocks  by  the  waterside,  and  continued  there 
whistling  by  the  space  of  an  hour,  persuading  the  company 
that  laughed  fast  at  him,  he  made  the  fish  to  tarry  there. 

"  Speaking  of  the  scarcity  of  herrings,  he  laid  the  fault 
to  the  covetousness  of  fishers,  who  in  time  of  plenty  took  so 
many  that  they  destroyed  the  breeders. 

"  Speaking  of  the  alteration  of  the  coin,  he  wished  that 
what  metal  soever  it  was  made  of,  the  penny  should  be  in 
weight  worth  a  penny  of  the  same  metal." 

Such  were  the  charges  against  Ferrars,  which,  notwith- 


THE   BLOODY    MARY.  137 

standing,  were  considered  serious  enough  to  require  an  an- 
swer; and  the  bishop  consented  to  reply. 

He  dined  with  his  servants,  he  said,  because  the  hall  of 
the  palace  was  in  ruins,  and  for  their  comfort  he  allowed 
them  to  eat  in  his  own  room.  For  his  hospitality,  he  appealed 
to  his  neighbors ;  and  for  his  conversation,  he  said  that  he 
suited  it  to  his  hearers.  He  talked  of  religion  to  religious 
men ;  to  men  of  the  world  he  talked  "  of  honest  worldly  things 
with  godly  intent."  He  saw  no  folly  in  having  his  horse 
decently  appointed;  and  as  to  walking  to  Parliament,  it  was 
indifferent  to  him  whether  he  walked  or  rode.  God  had 
given  him  a  child,  after  lawful  prayer,  begotten  in  honest 
marriage;  he  had  therefore  named  him  Samuel  and  presented 
him  to  the  minister  as  a  poor  member  of  Christ's  Church; 
it  was  done  openly  in  the  cathedral,  without  offending  any 
one.  The  crime  of  whistling  he  admitted,  "  thinking  it  better 
to  bring  up  his  son  with  loving  entertainment,"  to  encourage 
him  to  receive  afterwards  more  serious  lessons.  He  had 
whistled  to  the  seal :  and  "  such  as  meant  folly  might  turn  it 
to  their  purpose."  He  had  said  that  the  destruction  of  the 
fry  of  fish  prevented  fish  from  multiplying,  because  he  be- 
lieved it  to  be  true. 

Answered  or  unanswered,  it  is  scarcely  credible  that  such 
accusations  should  have  received  attention ;  but  the  real 
offense  lay  behind,  and  is  indicated  in  a  vague  statement  that 
he  had  exposed  himself  to  a  premunire.  The  exquisite  iniq- 
uity of  the  Northumberland  administration  could  not  endure 
a  bishop  who  had  opposed  the  corrupt  administration  of 
patronage;  and  the  explanation  being  held  as  insufficient, 
Ferrars  was  summoned  to  London  and  thrown  into  prison, 
where  Mary's  accession  found  him. 

Cut  off  in  this  way  from  the  opportunities  of  escape  which 
were  so  long  open  to  others,  the  bishop  remained  in  confine- 
ment till  the  opening  of  the  persecution.  He  was  deposed 
from  his  see  by  Gardiner's  first  commission,  as  having  been 
married;  otherwise,  however,  Ferrars  was  unobnoxious  po- 
litically and  personally.  Being  rn  prison,  he  had  been  in- 
capable of  committing  any  fresh  offense  against  the  Queen, 
and  might  reasonably  have  been  forgotten  or  passed  over. 
But  he  had  been  a  bishop,  and  he  was  ready  caught  to  the 
hands  of  the  authorities;  and  Mary  had  been  compelled  un- 


138  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

willingly  to  release  a  more  conspicuous  offender,  Miles  Cov- 
erdale,  at  the  intercession  of  the  King  of  Denmark.  Ferrars 
was  therefore  brought  before  Gardiner  on  the  4th  of  Feb- 
ruary. On  the  I4th  he  was  sent  into  Wales  to  be  tried  by 
Morgan,  his  successor  at  St.  David's,  and  Constantine,  the 
notary  of  the  diocese,  who  had  been  one  of  his  accusers.  By 
these  judges,  on  the  nth  of  March,  he  was  condemned  and 
degraded ;  he  appealed  to  the  legate,  but  the  legate  never 
listened  to  the  prayer  of  heretics;  the  legate's  mission  was 
to  extirpate  them.  On  Saturday,  the  3Oth  of  March,  Fer- 
rars was  brought  to  the  stake  in  the  market-place  in  Car- 
marthen. 

Rawlins  White,  an  aged  Cardiff  fisherman,  followed  Fer- 
rars. In  the  course  of  April,  George  Marsh,  a  curate,  was 
burned  at  Chester ;  and  on  the  2oth  of  April,  a  man  named 
William  Flower,  who  had  been  once  a  monk  of  Ely,  was 
burned  in  Palace-yard,  at  Westminster.  Flower  had  pro- 
voked his  own  fate.  He  appeared  on  Easter  Day  in  St. 
Margaret's  Church  while  mass  was  being  said;  and  insti- 
gated, as  he  persuaded  himself,  by  the  Holy  Spirit,  he  flew 
upon  the  officiating  priest,  and  stabbed  him  with  a  dagger  in 
the  hand,  when,  to  the  horror  of  pious  Catholics,  the  blood 
spurted  in  the  chalice,  and  was  mixed  with  the  consecrated 
elements. 

Sixteen  persons  had  now  been  put  to  death,  and  there 
was  again  a  pause  for  the  sharp  surgery  to  produce  its 
effects. 

While  Mary  was  destroying  the  enemies  of  the  Church, 
Julius  III  had  died  at  the  end  of  March,  and  Reginald  Pole 
was  again  a  candidate  for  the  vacant  chair.  The  courts  of 
Paris  and  Brussels  alike  promised  him  their  support,  but 
alike  gave  their  support  to  another.  They  flattered  his  vir- 
tues, but  they  permitted  Marcellus  Cervino,  the  Cardinal  of 
St.  Cross,  to  be  elected  unanimously;  and  the  English  legate 
was  told  that  he  must  be  contented  with  the  event  which 
God  had  been  pleased  to  send.  An  opportunity,  however, 
seemed  to  offer  itself  to  him  of  accomplishing  a  service  to 
Europe. 

For  thirty-five  years  the  two  great  Catholic  powers  had 
been  wrestling  with  but  brief  interruption.  The  advantage 
to  either  had  been  as  trifling  as  the  causes  of  their  quarrel 


THE   BLOODY    MARY.  139 

were  insignificant.  Their  revenues  were  anticipated,  their 
credit  was  exhausted,  yet  year  after  year  languid  armies 
struggled  into  collision.  Across  the  Alps  in  Italy,  and  along 
the  frontiers  of  Burgundy  and  the  Low  Countries,  towns  and 
villages  and  homesteads  were  annually  sacked,  and  peasants 
and  their  families  destroyed — for  what  it  were  vain  to  ask, 
except  it  was  for  some  poor  shadow  of  imagined  honor. 
Two  mighty  princes  believed  themselves  justified  in  the  sight 
of  Heaven  in  squandering  their  subjects'  treasure  and  their 
subjects'  blood,  because  the  pride  of  each  forbade  him  to  be 
the  first  in  volunteering  insignificant  concessions.  France 
had  conquered  Savoy  and  part  of  Piedmont,  and  had  pushed 
forward  its  northern  frontier  to  Marienbourg  and  Metz;  the 
Emperor  held  Lombardy,  Parma,  and  Naples,  and  Navarre 
was  annexed  to  Spain.  The  quarrel  might  have  easily  been 
ended  by  mutual  restitution;  yet  the  Peace  of  Cambray,  the 
Treaty  of  Nice,  and  the  Peace  of  Crepy  lasted  only  while 
the  combatants  were  taking  breath ;  and  those  who  would  at- 
tribute the  extravagances  of  human  folly  to  supernatural 
influence  might  imagine  that  the  great  discord  between  the 
orthodox  powers  had  been  permitted  to  give  time  for  the 
Reformation  to  strike  its  roots  into  the  soil  of  Europe.  But 
a  war  which  could  be  carried  on  only  by  loans  at  sixteen  per 
cent:  was  necessarily  near  its  conclusion.  The  apparent  re- 
covery of  England  to  the  Church  revived  hopes  which  the 
Peace  of  Passau  and  the  dissolution  of  the  Council  of  Trent 
had  almost  extinguished ;  and  could  a  reconciliation  be  ef- 
fected at  last,  and  could  Philip  obtain  the  disposal  of  the 
military  strength  of  England  in  the  interests  of  the  papacy, 
it  might  not  even  yet  be  too  late  to  lay  the  yoke  of  orthodoxy 
on  the  Germans,  and,  in  a  Catholic  interpretation  of  the  Par- 
able of  the  Supper,  "  compel  them  to  come  in." 

Mary,  who  had  heard  herself  compared  to  the  Virgin, 
and  Pole,  who  imagined  the  Prince  of  Spain  to  be  the  coun- 
terpart of  the  Redeemer  of  mankind,  indulged  their  fancy  in 
large  expectations.  Philip  was  the  Solomon  who  was  to- 
raise  up  the  temple  of  the  Lord,  which  the  Emperor,  who 
was  a  man  of  war,  had  not  been  allowed  to  build ;  and  Francis, 
at  the  same  time,  was  not  unwilling  to  listen  to  proposals. 
The  birth  of  Mary's  child  was  expected  in  a  few  weeks,  when 
England  would,  as  a  matter  of  course,  become  more  de- 


140  THE   VOICE  OF    HISTORY. 

cisively  Imperialist;  and  Henry,  whose  invasion  of  the  Neth- 
erlands had  failed  in  the  previous  summer,  was  ready  now  to 
close  the  struggle  while  it  could  be  ended  on  equal  and  hon- 
orable terms. 

A  conference  was,  therefore,  agreed  upon,  in  which  Eng- 
land was  to  mediate.  A  village  in  the  Calais  Pale  was  se- 
lected as  the  place  of  assembly,  and  Pole,  Gardiner,  Paget, 
and  Pembroke  were  chosen  to  arrange  the  terms  of  a  general 
peace,  with  the  Bishop  of  Arras,  the  Cardinal  of  Lorraine, 
and  Montmorency.  The  time  pitched  upon  was  that  at  which, 
so  near  as  the  Queen  could  judge,  she  would  herself  bring 
into  the  world  the  offspring  which  was  to  be  the  hope  of 
England  and  mankind;  and  the  great  event  should,  if  pos- 
sible, precede  the  first  meeting  of  the  plenipotentiaries. 

The  Queen  herself  commenced  her  preparations  with  in- 
finite earnestness,  and,  as  a  preliminary  votive  offering,  she 
resolved  to  give  back  to  the  Church  such  of  the  abbey  prop- 
erty as  remained  in  the  hands  of  the  crown.  Her  debts  were 
now  as  high  as  ever.  The  Flanders  correspondence  was  re- 
peating the  heavy  story  of  loans  and  bills.  Promises  to  pay 
were  falling  due,  and  there  were  no  resources  to  meet  them, 
and  the  Israelite  leeches  were  again  fastened  on  the  common- 
wealth. Nevertheless,  the  sacrifice  should  be  made;  the  more 
difficult  it  was,  the  more  favorable  it  would  be  received;  and 
on  the  28th  of  March,  she  sent  for  the  Lord  Treasurer,  and 
announced  her  intention.  "  If  he  told  her  that  her  estate 
would  not  bear  it,  she  must  reply,"  she  said,  "  that  she  valued 
the  salvation  of  her  soul  beyond  all  earthly  things."  As  soon 
as  Parliament  could  meet  and  give  its  sanction,  she  wouH 
restore  the  first-fruits  also  to  the  Holy  See.  She  must  work 
for  God  as  God  had  worked  for  her. 

About  the  2oth  of  April,  she  withdrew  to  Hampton  Court 
for  entire  quiet.  The  rockers  and  the  nurses  were  in  read- 
iness, and  a  cradle  stood  open  to  receive  the  royal  infant; 
priests  and  bishops  sang  litanies  through  the  London  streets ; 
a  procession  of  ecclesiastics  in  cloth  of  gold  and  tissue 
marched  round  Hampton  Court  Palace  headed  by  Philip  in 
person;  Gardiner  walked  at  his  side,  while  Mary  gazed  from 
a  window.  Not  only  was  the  child  assuredly  coming,  but  its 
sex  was  decided  on,  and  circulars  were  drawn  and  signed 
both  by  the  King  and  Queen,  with  blanks  only  for  the  month 


THE   BLOODY    MARY.  141 

and  day,  announcing  to  ministers  of  state,  to  ambassadors, 
and  to  foreign  sovereigns  the  birth  of  a  prince. 

On  the  3Oth,  the  happy  moment  was  supposed  to  have 
arrived;  a  message  was  sent  off  to  London  announcing  the 
commencement  of  the  pains.  The  bells  were  set  ringing  in 
all  the  churches;  Te  Deum  was  sung  in  St.  Paul's;  priests 
wrote  sermons;  bonfires  were  piled  ready  for  lighting,  and 
tables  were  laid  out  in  the  streets.  The  news  crossed  the 
Channel  to  Antwerp,  and  had  grown  in  transit.  The  great 
bell  of  the  cathedral  was  rung  for  the  actual  birth.  The 
vessels  in  the  river  fired  salutes.  "  The  regent  sent  the 
English  mariners  a  hundred  crowns  to  drink,"  and,  "  they 
made  themselves  in  readiness  to  show  some  worthy  triumph 
upon  the  waters." 

But  the  pains  passed  off  without  result;  and  whispers 
began  to  be  heard  that  there  was,  perhaps,  a  mistake  of  a 
more  considerable  kind.  Mary,  however,  had  herself  no 
sort  of  misgiving.  She  assured  her  attendants  that  all  was 
well,  and  that  she  felt  the  motion  of  her  child.  The  physi- 
cians professed  to  be  satisfied,  and  the  priests  were  kept  at 
work  at  the  litanies.  Up  and  down  the  streets  they 
inarched,  through  City  and  suburb,  park  and  square;  torches 
flared  along  Cheapside  at  midnight  behind  the  Holy  Sacra- 
ment, and  five  hundred  poor  men  and  women  from  the  alms- 
houses  walked  two  and  two,  telling  their  beads  in  their 
withered  fingers.  Then  all  the  boys  of  all  the  schools  were  set 
in  motion,  and  the  ushers  and  the  masters  came  after  them; 
clerks,  canons,  bishops,  mayor,  aldermen,  officers  of  guilds. 
Such  marching,  such  chanting,  such  praying  was  never  seen 
or  heard  before  or  since  in  London  streets.  A  profane  persorf 
ran  one  day  out  of  the  crowd,  and  hung  about  a  priest's  neck, 
where  the  beads  should  be,  a  string  of  puddings;  but  they 
whipped  him  and  prayed  on.  Surely,  God  would  hear  the  cry 
of  His  people. 

In  the  midst  of  the  suspense  the  papal  chair  fell  vacant 
again.  The  Pontificate  of  Marcellus  lasted  three  weeks,  and 
Pole  a  third  time  offered  himself  to  the  suffrages  of  the  cardi- 
nals. The  courts  were  profuse  of  compliments  as  before. 
Noailles  presented  him  with  a  note  from  Montmorency,  con- 
taining assurances  of  the  infinite  desire  of  the  King  of  France 


142  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

for  the  success  of  so  holy  a  person.  Philip  wrote  to  Rome  in 
his  behalf,  and  Mary  condescended  to  ask  for  the  support  of 
the  French  cardinals.  But  the  fair  speeches,  as  before,  were 
tut  trifling.  The  choice  fell  on  Pole's  personal  enemy,  Car- 
dinal Caraffa,  who  was  French  alike  in  heart  and  brain. 

The  choice  of  a  Pope,  however,  would  signify  little,  if 
only  the  child  could  be  born ;  but  where  was  the  child  ?  The 
Queen  put  it  off  strangely.  The  conference  could  be  de- 
layed no  longer.  It  opened  without  the  intended  make- 
weight, and  the  Court  of  France  was  less  inclined  to  make 
concessions  for  a  peace.  The  delay  began  to  tell  on  the 
Bourse  at  Antwerp.  The  Fuggers  and  the  Schertzes  drew 
their  purse-strings,  and  made  difficulties  in  lending  more 
money  to  the  Emperor.  The  plenipotentiaries  had  to  sepa- 
rate after  a  few  meetings,  having  effected  nothing,  to  the 
especial  mortification  of  Philip  and  Mary,  who  looked  to 
the  pacification  to  enable  them  to  cure  England  of  its  unruly 
humors.  The  Duke  of  Alva  (so  rumor  insisted)  was  to 
t>ring  across  the  Spanish  troops  which  were  in  the  Low 
Countries,  take  possession  of  London,  and  force  the  Parlia- 
ment into  submission.  The  English  were  to  be  punished  for 
the  infinite  insolences  in  which  they  had  indulged  towards 
Philip's  retinue,  by  being  compelled,  whether  they  liked 
it  or  not,  to  bestow  upon  him  the  crown. 

But  the  peace  could  not  be,  nor  could  the  child  be  born; 
and  the  impression  grew  daily  that  the  Queen  had  not  been 
pregnant  at  all.  Mary  herself,  who  had  been  borne  for- 
ward to  this,  the  crisis  of  her  fortunes,  on  a  tide  of  success, 
now  suddenly  found  her  exulting  hopes  closing  over.  From 
confidence  she  fell  into  anxiety,  from  anxiety  into  fear, 
from  fear  into  wilderness  and  deepondency.  She  vowed 
that  with  the  restoration  of  the  estates,  she  would  rebuild 
the  abbeys  at  her  own  cost.  In  vain.  Her  women  now 
understood  her  condition;  she  was  sick  of  a  mortal  disease; 
but  they  durst  not  tell  her;  and  she  whose  career  had  been 
painted  out  to  her  by  the  legate  as  especial  and  supernatural, 
looked  only  for  supernatural  causes  of  her  present  state. 
Throughout  May  she  remained  in  her  apartments  waiting — 
waiting — in  passionate  restlessness.  With  stomach  swollen, 
and  features  shrunk  and  haggard,  she  would  sit  upon  the 
floor,  with  her  knees  drawn  up  to  her  face,  in  an  agony  of 


THE   BLOODY    MARY.  143 

doubt;  and  in  mockery  of  her  wretchedness  letters  were 
again  strewed  about  the  place  by  an  invisible  agency  telling 
her  that  she  was  loathed  by  her  people.  She  imagined  they 
would  rise  again  in  her  defense.  But  if  they  rose  again,  it 
would  be  to  drive  her  and  her  husband  from  the  country. 

After  the  mysterious  quickening  on  the  legate's  saluta- 
tion, she  could  not  doubt  that  her  hopes  had  been  at  one 
time  well  founded;  but  for  some  fault,  some  error  in  herself, 
God  had  delayed  the  fulfillment  of  His  promise.  And  what 
could  that  crime  be?  The  accursed  thing  was  still  in  the 
realm.  She  had  been  raised  up,  like  the  judges  in  Israel,  for 
the  extermination  of  God's  enemies;  and  she  had  smitten 
but  a  few  here  and  there,  when,  like  the  evil  spirits,  their 
name  was  legion.  She  had  before  sent  orders  round  among 
the  magistrates  to  have  their  eyes  upon  them.  On  the  24th 
of  May,  when  her  distraction  was  at  its  height,  she  wrote 
a  circular  to  quicken  the  over-languid  zeal  of  the  bishops. 

"  Right  Reverend  Father  in  God,"  it  ran,  "  We  greet  you 
well;  and  where  of  late  we  addressed  our  letters  unto  the 
justices  of  the  peace,  within  every  of  the  counties  within 
this  our  realm,  whereby,  amongst  other  good  instructions 
given  therein  for  the  good  order  of  the  country  about,  they 
are  willed  to  have  special  regard  to  such  disordered  persons 
as,  forgetting  their  duty  to  Almighty  God  and  us,  do  lean 
to  any  erroneous  and  heretical  opinions ;  whom,  if  they  can- 
not, by  good  admonition  and  fair  means  reform,  they  are 
willed  to  deliver  unto  the  ordinary,  to  be  by  him  charitably 
traveled  withal,  and  removed,  if  it  may  be,  from  their 
naughty  opinions;  or  else,  if  they  continue  obstinate,  to  be 
ordered  according  to  the  laws  provided  in  that  behalf:  un- 
derstanding now,  to  our  no  little  marvel,  that  divers  of  the 
said  misordered  persons,  being,  by  the  justices  of  the  peace, 
for  their  contempt  and  obstinacy,  brought  to  the  ordinary, 
to  be  used  as  is  aforesaid,  are  either  refused  to  be  received 
at  their  hands,  or  if  they  be  received,  are  neither  so  trav- 
eled with  as  Christian  charity  requireth,  nor  yet  proceeded 
withal  according  to  the  order  of  justice,  but  are  suffered 
to  continue  in  their  errors,  to  the  dishonor  of  Almighty 
God,  and  dangerous  example  of  others;  like  as  we  find  this 
matter  very  strange,  so  have  we  thought  convenient  both 
to  signify  this  our  knowledge,  and  therewithal  also  to 


144  THE   VOICE  OF    HISTORY.  ,« 

admonish  you  to  have  in  this  behalf  such  regard  henceforth 
unto  the  office  of  a  good  pastor  and  bishop,  as  where  any 
such  offender  shall  be,  by  the  said  justices  of  the  peace, 
brought  unto  you,  ye  do  use  your  good  wisdom  and  discre- 
tion in  procuring  to  remove  them  from  their  errors  if  it 
may  be,  or  else  in  proceeding  against  them,  if  they  continue 
obstinate,  according  to  the  order  of  the  laws,  so  as,  through 
your  good  furtherance,  both  God's  glory  may  be  the  better 
advanced,  and  the  commonwealth  more  quietly  governed." 

Under  the  fresh  impulse  of  this  letter,  fifty  persons 
were  put  to  death  at  the  stake  in  the  three  ensuing  months, 
— in  the  diocese  of  London,  under  Bonner ;  in  the  diocese 
of  Rochester,  under  Maurice  Griffin;  in  the  diocese  of  Can- 
terbury, where  Pole,  the  archbishop  designate,  so  soon  as 
Cranmer  should  be  dispatched,  governed  through  Harps- 
feld,  the  archdeacon,  and  Thornton,  the  suffragan  bishop  of 
Dover.  Of  these  sacrifices,  which  were  distinguished,  all 
of  them,  by  a  uniformity  of  quiet  heroism  in  the  sufferers, 
that  of  Cardmaker,  prebendary  of  Wells,  calls  most  for 
notice. 

The  people,  whom  the  cruelty  of  the  Catholic  party  was 
reconverting  to  the  Reformation  with  a  rapidity  like  that 
produced  by  the  gift  of  tongues  on  the  day  of  Pentecost, 
looked  on  the  martyrs  as  soldiers  are  looked  at  who  are  called 
to  accomplish,  with  the  sacrifice  of  their  lives,  some  great 
service  for  their  country.  Cardmaker,  on  his  first  exami- 
nation, had  turned  his  back  and  flinched.  But  the  conscious- 
ness of  shame  and  the  example  of  others  gave  him  back 
his  courage ;  he  was  called  up  again  under  the  Queen's 
mandate,  condemned,  and  brought  out  on  the  3Oth  of  May, 
to  suffer  at  Smithfield,  with  an  upholsterer  named  Warne. 
The  sheriffs  produced  the  pardons.  Warne,  without  looking 
at  them,  undressed  at  once,  and  went  to  the  stake;  Card- 
maker  "  remained  long  talking ;"  "  the  people  in  a  mar- 
velous dump  of  sadness,  thinking  he  would  recant."  He 
turned  away  at  last,  and  knelt,  and  prayed;  but  he  had  still 
his  clothes  on ;  "  there  was  no  semblance  of  burning ;"  and 
the  crowd  continued  nervously  agitated  till  he  rose  and  threw 
off  his  cloak.  "  Then,  seeing  this,  contrary  to  their  fearful 
expectations,  as  men  delivered  out  of  great  doubt,  they  cried 
out  for  joy,  with  so  great  a  shout  as  hath  not  been  lightly 


THE   BLOODY    MARY.  J.48 

heard  a  greater,  '  God  be  praised ;  the  Lord  strengthen  thee, 
Cardmaker ;  the  Lord  Jesus  receive  thy  spirit.' "  Every 
martyr's  trial  was  a  battle;  every  constant  death  was  a 
defeat  of  the  common  enemy;  and  the  instinctive  conscious- 
ness that  truth  was  asserting  itself  in  suffering,  converted 
the  natural  emotion  of  horror  into  admiring  pride. 

Yet,  for  the  great  purpose  of  the  court,  the  burnt-offer- 
ings were  ineffectual  as  the  prayers  of  the  priests.  The 
Queen  was  allowed  to  persuade  herself  that  she  had  mistaken 
her  time  by  two  months;  and  to  this  hope  she  clung  her- 
self so  long  as  the  hope  could  last;  but  among  all  other 
persons  concerned,  scarcely  one  was  any  longer  under  a  de- 
lusion; and  the  clear-eyed  Renard  lost  no  time  in  laying  the 
position  of  affairs  before  his  master. 


There  was  some  delay  in  sending  the  judgment  to  Eng- 
land. It  arrived  at  the  beginning  of  February,  and  on  the 
i/th,  Thirlby  and  Bonner  went  down  to  finish  the  work  at 
Oxford.  The  court  sat  this  time  in  Christ  Church  Cathe- 
dral. Cranmer  was  brought  to  the  bar,  and  the  papal  sen- 
tence was  read.  The  preamble  declared  that  the  cause  had 
been  heard  with  indifference,  that  the  accused  had  been  de- 
fended by  an  advocate,  that  witnesses  had  been  examined 
for  him,  that  he  had  been  allowed  every  opportunity  to  an- 
swer for  himself.  "  O  Lor3,"  he  exclaimed,  "  what  lies  be 
these !  that  I,  being  in  prison  and  never  suffered  to  have 
counsel  or  advocate  at  home,  should  produce  witness  and 
appoint  counsel  at  Rome.  God  must  needs  punish  this  shame- 
less lying." 

Silence  would  perhaps  have  been  more  dignified;  to 
speak  at  all  was  an  indication  of  infirmity.  As  soon  as  the 
reading  was  finished,  the  archbishop  was  formally  arrayed 
in  his  robes,  and  when  the  decoration  was  completed,  Bon- 
ner called  out  in  exultation: — 

"  This  is  the  man  that  hath  despised  the  Pope's  holiness, 
and  now  is  to  be  judged  by  him;  this  is  the  man  that  hath 
pulled  down  so  many  churches,  and  now  is  come  to  be 
judged  in  a  church;  this  is  the  man  that  hath  contemned 
the  blessed  Sacrament  of  the  altar,  and  now  is  come  to  be 
condemned  before  that  blessed  Sacrament  hanging  over  the 

10 


146  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

altar;  this  is  the  man  that,  like  Lucifer,  sat  in  the  place  of 
Christ  upon  an  altar  to  judge  others,  and  now  is  come 
before  an  altar  to  be  judged  himself." 

Thirlby  checked  the  insolence  of  his  companion.  The 
degradation  was  about  to  commence,  when  the  archbishop 
drew  from  his  sleeve  an  appeal  "  to  the  next  Free  General 
Council  that  should  be  called."  It  had  been  drawn  after 
consultation  with  a  lawyer,  in  the  evident  hope  that  it  might 
save  or  prolong  his  life,  and  he  attempted  to  present  it  to 
his  judges.  But  he  was  catching  at  straws,  as  in  his  clearer 
judgment  he  would  have  known.  Thirlby  said  sadly  that  the 
appeal  could  not  be  received ;  his  orders  were  absolute  to 
proceed. 

The  robes  were  stripped  off  in  the  usual  way.  The  thin 
hair  was  clipped.  Ronner  with  his  own  hands  scraped  the 
finger  points  which  had  been  touched  with  the  oil  of  conse- 
cration ;  "  Now  are  you  lord  no  longer,"  he  said,  when  the 
ceremony  was  finished.  "  All  this  needed  not,"  Cranmer  an- 
swered ;  "  I  had  myself  done  with  this  gear  long  ago." 

He  was  led  off  in  a  beadle's  threadbare  gown  and  a 
tradesman's  cap;  and  here  for  some  important  hours  authen- 
tic account  of  him  is  lost.  What  he  did,  what  he  said,  what 
was  done,  or  what  was  said  to  him,  is  known  only  in  its 
results,  or  in  Protestant  tradition.  Tradition  said  that  he 
was  taken  from  the  cathedral  to  the  house  of  the  Dean  of 
Christ  Church,  where  he  was  delicately  entertained,  and 
worked  upon  with  smooth  words,  and  promises  of  life.  "  The 
noblemen,"  he  was  told,  "  bare  him  good-will ;  he  was  still 
strong,  and  might  live  many  years,  why  should  he  cut  them 
short?"  The  story  may  contain  some  elements  of  truth. 
But  the  same  evening,  certainly,  he  was  again  in  his  cell ; 
and  among  the  attempts  to  move  him  which  can  be  authen- 
ticated, there  was  one  of  a  far  different  kind;  a  letter  ad- 
dressed to  him  by  Pole  to  bring  him  to  a  sense  of  his  con- 
dition. 

"  Whosoever  transgresseth,  and  abideth  not  in  the  doc- 
trine of  Christ,"  so  the  legate  addressed  a  prisoner  in  the 
expectation  of  death,  "  hath  not  God.  He  that  abideth  in  the 
doctrine  of  Christ,  he  hath  both  the  Father  and  the  Son. 
If  there  come  any  unto  you  and  bring  not  this  doctrine,  re- 
ceive him  not  into  your  house,  neither  bid  him  God  speed; 


THE   BLOODY    MARY.  147 

for  he  that  biddeth  him  God  speed  is  partaker  of  his  evil 
deeds.  There  are  some  who  tell  me  that,  in  obedience  to 
this  command,  I  ought  not  to  address  you,  or  to  have  any 
dealings  with  you,  save  the  dealings  of  a  judge  with  a 
criminal.  But  Christ  came  not  to  judge  only,  but  also  to 
save;  I  call  upon  you,  not  to  enter  into  your  house,  for  so 
I  should  make  myself  a  partaker  with  you;  my  desire  is 
only  to  bring  you  back  to  the  church  which  you  have  de- 
serted. 

"  You  have  corrupted  Scripture,  you  have  broken  through 
the  communion  of  saints,  and  now  I  tell  you  what  you  must 
do;  I  tell  you,  or  rather  not  I,  but  Christ  and  the  Church 
through  me.  Did  I  follow  my  own  impulse,  or  did  I  speak 
in  my  own  name,  I  should  hold  other  language ;  to  you  I 
should  not  speak  at  all ;  I  would  address  myself  only  to  God ; 
I  would  pray  Him  to  let  fall  the  fire  of  heaven  to  consume 
you,  and  to  consume  with  you  the  house  into  which  you 
have  entered  in  abandoning  the  Church. 

"  You  pretend  that  you  have  used  no  instruments  but 
reason,  to  lead  men  after  you;  what  instrument  did  the 
devil  use  to  seduce  our  parents  in  Paradise?  You  have  fol- 
lowed the  serpent;  with  guile  you  destroyed  your  king,  the 
realm,  and  the  Church,  and  you  have  brought  to  perdition 
thousands  of  human  souls. 

"  Compared  with  you,  all  others  who  have  been  concerned 
in  these  deeds  of  evil,  are  but  objects  of  pity;  many  of  them 
long  resisted  temptation,  and  yielded  only  to  the  seductions 
of  your  impious  tongue ;  you  made  yourself  .a  bishop, — for 
what  purpose  but  to  mock  both  God  and  man?  Your  first 
act  was  but  to  juggle  with  your  king,  and  you  were  no 
sooner  Primate  than  you  plotted  how  you  might  break  your 
oath  to  the  Holy  See ;  you  took  part  in  the  counsels  of  the 
Evil  One ;  you  made  your  home  with  the  wicked ;  you  sat 
in  the  seat  of  the  scornful.  You  exhorted  your  king  with 
your  fine  words  to  put  away  his  wife;  you  prated  to  him 
of  his  obligations  to  submit  to  the  judgment  of  the  Church ; 
and  what  has  followed  that  unrighteous  sentence?  You 
parted  the  king  from  the  wife  with  whom  he  had  lived  for 
twenty  years;  you  parted  him  from  the  Church,  the  com- 
mon mother  of  the  faithful;  and  thenceforth  throughout  the 
realm  law  has  been  trampled  under  foot,  the  people  have  been 


148  THE   YOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

ground  with  tyranny,  the  churches  pillaged,  the  nobility 
murdered  one  by  the  other. 

"Therefore,  I  say,  were  I  to  make  my  own  cries  heard 
in  heaven,  I  would  pray  God  to  demand  at  your  hands  the 
blood  of  His  servants.  Never  had  religion,  never  had  the 
Church  of  Christ  a  worse  enemy  than  you  have  been;  now 
therefore,  when  you  are  about  to  suffer  the  just  reward  of 
your  deeds,  think  no  more  to  excuse  yourself;  confess  your 
sins,  like  the  penitent  thief  upon  the  cross. 

"  Say  not  in  your  defense  that  you  have  done  no  vio- 
fence,  that  you  have  been  kind  and  gentle  in  your  daily  life. 
Thus  I  know  men  speak  of  you;  but  cheat  not  your  con- 
science with  so  vain  a  plea.  The  devil,  when  called  to  an- 
swer for  the  souls  that  he  has  slain,  may  plead  likewise  that 
he  did  not  desire  their  destruction;  he  thought  only  to  make 
them  happy,  to  give  them  pleasure,  honor,  riches — all  things 
which  their  hearts  desired.  So  did  you  with  your  king:  you 
gave  him  the  woman  that  he  lusted  after;  you  gave  him  the 
honor  which  was  not  his  due,  and  the  good  things  which 
were  neither  his  nor  yours;  and,  last  and  worse,  you  gave 
him  poison,  in  coverng  his  iniquities  with  a  cloak  of  right- 
eousness. Better,  far  better,  you  had  offered  him  courte- 
zans for  companions;  better  you  and  he  had  been  open 
thieves  and  robbers.  Then  he  might  have  understood  his 
crimes,  and  have  repented  of  them;  but  you  tempted  him 
into  the  place  where  there  is  no  repentance,  no  hope  of 
salvation. 

"Turn  then  yourself  and  repent.  See  yourself  as  you 
are.  Thus  may  you  escape  your  prison.  Thus  may  you  flee 
out  of  the  darkness  wherein  you  have  hid  yourself.  Thus  may 
you  come  back  to  light  and  life,  and  earn  for  yourself  God's 
forgiveness.  I  know  not  how  to  deal  with  you.  Your  ex- 
amination at  Oxford  has  but  hardened  you ;  yet  the  issue 
is  with  God.  I  at  least  can  point  out  to  you  the  way.  If 
you,  then,  persist  in  your  vain  opinions,  may  God  have  mercy 
on  you." 

The  legate,  in  his  office  of  guide,  then  traveled  the  full 
round  of  controversy,  through  Catholic  tradition,  through 
the  doctrine  of  the  Sacraments  and  of  the  real  presence, 
where  there  is  no  need  to  follow  him.  At  length  he  drew 
to  his  conclusion: — 


THE   BLOODY    MARY.  149 

"  You  will  plead  Scripture  to  answer  me.  Are  you  so 
vain,  then,  are  you  so  foolish,  as  to  suppose  that  it  has  been 
left  to  you  to  find  out  the  meaning  of  those  Scriptures  which 
have  been  in  the  hands  of  the  Fathers  of  the  Church  for 
so  many  ages?  Confess,  confess  that  you  have  mocked  God 
in  denying  that  He  is  present  on  the  altar;  wash  out  your 
sins  with  tears;  and  in  the  abundance  of  your  sorrow  you 
may  find  pardon.  May  it  be  so.  Even  for  the  greatness 
of  your  crimes  may  it  be  so,  that  God  may  have  the  greater 
glory.  You  have  not,  like  others,  fallen  through  simplicity,  or 
fallen  through  fear.  You  were  corrupted,  like  the  Jews, 
by  earthly  rewards  and  promises.  For  your  own  profit  you 
denied  the  presence  of  your  Lord,  and  you  rebelled  against 
His  servant,  the  Pope.  May  you  see  your  crimes.  May  you 
feel  the  greatness  of  your  need  of  mercy.  Now,  even  now, 
by  my  mouth,  Christ  offers  you  that  mercy;  and  with  the 
passionate  hope  which  I  am  bound  to  feel  for  your  salvation, 
I  wait  your  answer  to  your  Master's  call." 

The  exact  day  on  which  this  letter  reached  the  arch- 
bishop is  uncertain,  but  it  was  very  near  the  period  of  his 
sentence.  He  had  dared  death  bravely  while  it  was  distant; 
but  he  was  physically  timid;  the  near  approach  of  the  agony 
which  he  had  witnessed  in  others  unnerved  him;  and  in  a 
moment  of  mental  and  moral  prostration  Cranmer  may  well 
have  looked  in  the  mirror  which  Pole  held  up  to  him,  and 
asked  himself  whether,  after  all,  the  being  there  described 
was  his  true  image — whether  it  was  himself  as  others  saw 
him.  A  faith  which  had  existed  for  centuries,  a  faith  in 
which  generation  after  generation  have  lived  happy  and  vir- 
tuous lives;  a  faith  in  which  all  good  men  are  agreed,  and 
only  the  bad  dispute — such  a  faith  carries  an  evidence  and 
a  weight  with  it  beyond  what  can  be  looked  for  in  a  creed 
reasoned  out  by  individuals — a  creed  which  had  the  ban 
upon  it  of  inherited  execration;  which  had  been  held  in  ab- 
horrence once  by  him  who  was  now  called  upon  to  die  for 
it.  Only  fools  and  fanatics  believe  that  they  cannot  be  mis- 
taken. Sick  misgivings  may  have  taken  hold  upon  him  in 
moments  of  despondency,  whether,  after  all,  the  millions 
who  received  the  Roman  supremacy  might  not  be  more 
right  than  the  thousands  who  denied  it;  whether  the  argu- 
ment on  the  real  presence,  which  had  satisfied  him  for  fifty 


150  THE   VOICE  OF    HISTORY. 

years,  might  not  be  better  founded  than  his  recent  doubts. 
It  is  not  possible  for  a  man  of  gentle  and  modest  nature  to 
feel  himself  the  object  of  intense  detestation  without  uneasy 
pangs ;  and  as  such  thoughts  came  and  went,  a  window 
might  seem  to  open,  through  which  there  was  a  return  to  life 
and  freedom.  His  trial  was  not  greater  than  hundreds  of 
others  had  borne,  and  would  bear  with  constancy;  but  the 
temperaments  of  men  are  unequally  constituted,  and  a  subtle 
intellect  and  a  sensitive  organization  are  not  qualifications 
which  make  martyrdom  easy. 

Life,  by  the  law  of  the  Church,  by  justice,  by  precedent, 
was  given  to  all  who  would  accept  it  on  terms  of  submis- 
sion. That  the  archbishop  should  be  tempted  to  recant,  with 
the  resolution  formed,  notwithstanding,  that  he  should  still 
suffer,  whether  he  yielded  or  whether  he  was  obstinate,  was 
a  suspicion  which  his  experience  of  the  legate  had  not 
taught  him  to  entertain. 

So  it  was  that  Cranmer's  spirit  gave  way,  and  he  who 
had  disdained  to  fly  when  flight  was  open  to  him,  because 
he  considered  that,  having  done  the  most  in  establishing  the 
Reformation,  he  was  bound  to  face  the  responsibility  of  it, 
fell  at  last  under  the  protraction  of  the  trial. 

The  day  of  his  degradation  the  archbishop  had  eaten 
little.  In  the  evening  he  returned  to  his  cell  in  a  state  of 
exhaustion.  The  same  night,  or  the  next  day,  he  sent  in 
his  first  submission,  which  was  forwarded  on  the  instant  to 
the  Queen.  It  was  no  sooner  gone  than  he  recalled  it,  and 
then  vacillating  again,  he  drew  a  second,  in  slightly  altered 
words,  which  he  signed  and  did  not  recall.  There  had  been 
a  struggle  in  which  the  weaker  nature  had  prevailed,  and 
the  orthodox  leaders  made  haste  to  improve  their  triumph. 
The  first  step  being  over,  confessions  far  more  humiliating 
could  now  be  extorted.  Bonner  came  to  his  cell,  and  ob- 
tained from  him  a  promise  in  writing,  "  to  submit  to  the 
king  and  queen  in  all  their  laws  and  ordinances,  as  well 
touching  the  Pope's  supremacy  as  in  all  other  things ; "  with 
an  engagement  further  "  to  move  and  stir  all  others  to  do 
the  like,"  and  to  live  in  quietness  and  obedience,  without 
murmur  or  grudging;  his  book  on  the  Sacrament  he  would 
submit  to  the  next  general  council. 

These  three  submissions  must  have  followed  one  another 


THE   BLOODY    MARY.  151 

rapidly.  On  the  i6th  of  February,  two  days  only  after  his 
trial,  he  made  a  fourth,  and  yielding  the  point  which  he 
had  reserved,  he  declared  that  he  believed  all  the  articles 
of  the  Christian  religion  as  the  Catholic  Church  believed. 
But  so  far  he  had  spoken  generally,  and  the  court  required 
particulars.  In  a  fifth  and  longer  submission,  he  was  made 
to  anathematize  particularly  the  heresies  of  Luther  and  Zuin- 
glius;  to  accept  the  Pope  as  the  head  of  the  Church,  out  of 
which  was  no  salvation;  to  acknowledge  the  real  presence  in 
the  Eucharist,  the  seven  sacraments  as  received  by  the 
Roman  Catholics,  and  purgatory.  He  professed  his  peni- 
tence for  having  once  held  or  taught  otherwise,  and  he 
implored  the  prayers  of  all  faithful  Christians,  that  those 
whom  he  had  seduced  might  be  brought  back  to  the  true 
fold. 

The  demands  of  the  Church  might  have  been  satisfied 
by  these  last  admissions;  but  Cranmer  had  not  yet  expiated 
his  personal  offenses  against  the  Queen  and  her  mother,  and 
he  was  to  drain  the  cup  of  humiliation  to  the  dregs. 

A  month  was  allowed  to  pass.  He  was  left  with  the 
certainty  of  his  shame,,  and  the  uncertainty  whether,  after 
all,  it  had  not  been  encountered  in  vain.  On  the  i8th  of 
March,  one  more  paper  was  submitted  to  his  signature,  in 
which  he  confessed  to  be  all  which  Pole  had  described  him. 
He  called  himself  a  blasphemer  and  a  persecutor;  being 
unable  to  undo  his  evil  work,  he  had  no  hope,  he  said,  save 
in  the  example  of  the  thief  upon  the  cross,  who,  when  other 
means  of  reparation  were  taken  from  him,  made  amends  to 
God  with  his  lips.  He  was  unworthy  of  mercy,  and  he  de- 
served eternal  vengeance.  He  had  sinned  against  King 
Henry  and  his  wife;  he  was  the  cause  of  the  divorce,  from 
which,  as  from  a  seed,  had  sprung  up  schism,  heresy,  and 
crime;  he  had  opened  a  window  to  false  doctrines  of  which 
he  had  been  himself  the  most  pernicious  teacher;  especially 
he  reflected  with  anguish  that  he  had  denied  the  presence 
of  his  Maker  in  the  consecrated  elements.  He  had  deceived 
the  living,  and  he  had  robbed  the  souls  of  the  dead  by  stealing 
from  them  their  masses.  He  prayed  the  Pope  to  pardon  him ; 
he  prayed  the  King  and  Queen  to  pardon  him ;  he  prayed  God 
Almighty  to  pardon  him  as  He  had  pardoned  Mary  Mag- 


152  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

dalen,  or  to  look  upon  him  as,  from  His  own  cross,  He  had 
looked  upon  the  thief. 

The  most  ingenious  malice  could  invent  no  deeper  deg- 
radation, and  the  archbishop  might  now  die.  One  favor 
was  granted  to  him  alone  of  all  the  sufferers  for  religion — 
that  he  might  speak  at  his  death;  speak,  and,  like  North- 
umberland, perish  with  a  recantation  on  his  lips. 

The  hatred  against  him  was  confined  to  the  court. 
Even  among  those  who  had  the  deepest  distaste  for  his 
opinions,  his  character  had  won  affection  and  respect;  and 
when  it  was  known  that  he  was  executed,  there  was  a 
wide-spread  and  profound  emotion.  "  Although,"  says 
a  Catholic  who  witnessed  his  death,  "  his  former  life 
and  wretched  end  deserved  a  greater  misery,  if  any 
greater  might  have  chanced  to  him,  yet,  setting  aside 
his  offense  to  God  and  his  country,  beholding  the  man  with- 
out his  faults,  I  think  there  was  none  that  pitied  not  his 
case  and  bewailed  not  his  fortune,  and  feared  not  his  own 
chance,  to  see  so  noble  a  prelate,  so  grave  a  councilor,  of  so 
long-continued  honors,  after  so  many  dignities,  in  his  old 
years  to  be  deprived  of  his  estate,  adjudged  to  die,  and  in 
so  painful  a  death  to  end  his  life." 

On  Saturday,  the  2ist  of  March,  Lord  Williams  was 
again  ordered  into  Oxford  to  keep  the  peace,  with  Lord 
Chandos,  Sir  Thomas  Brydges,  and  other  gentlemen  of  the 
county.  If  they  allowed  themselves  to  countenance  by  their 
presence  the  scene  which  they  were  about  to  witness,  it  is 
to  be  remembered  that  but  a  few  years  since,  these  same 
gentlemen  had  seen  Catholic  priests  swinging  from  the 
pinnacles  of  their  churches.  The  memory  of  the  evil 
days  was  still  recent,  and  amidst  the  tumult  of  conflicting 
passions  no  one  could  trust  his  neighbor,  and  organized  re- 
sistance was  impracticable. 

The  March  morning  broke  wild  and  stormy.  The  sermon 
intended  to  be  preached  at  the  stake  was  adjourned,  in  con- 
sequence of  the  wet,  to  St.  Mary's,  where  a  high  stage  was 
erected,  on  which  Cranmer  was  to  stand  conspicuous. 
Peers,  knights,  doctors,  students,  priests,  men-at-arms,  and 
citizens,  thronged  the  narrow  aisles,  and  through  the  midst 
of  them  the  archbishop  was  led  in  by  the  mayor.  As  he 
mounted  the  platform,  many  of  the  spectators  were  in  tears. 


THE   BLOODY    MARY.  153 

He   knelt   and   prayed   silently,   and   Cole,   the   Provost   of 
Eton,  then  took  his  place  in  the  pulpit. 

Although,  by  a  strained  interpretation  of  the  law,  it 
could  be  pretended  that  the  time  of  grace  had  expired  with 
the  trial,  yet,  to  put  a  man  to  death  at  all  after  recantation 
was  a  proceeding  so  violent  and  unusual  that  some  excuse 
or  some  explanation  was  felt  to  be  necessary. 

Cole  therefore  first  declared  why  it  was  expedient  that 
the  late  archbishop  should  suffer,  notwithstanding  his  rec- 
onciliation. One  reason  was,  "  for  that  he  had  been  a  great 
causer  of  all  the  alterations  in  the  realm  of  England;  and 
when  the  matter  of  the  divorce  between  King  Henry  VIII 
and  Queen  Catherine  was  commenced  in  the  court  of  Rome, 
he,  having  nothing  to  do  with  it,  sat  upon  it  as  a  judge, 
which  was  the  entry  to  all  the  inconvenients  which  fol- 
lowed." Yet  in  that  Mr.  Cole  excused  him — that  he  thought 
he  did  it,  not  "  out  of  malice,  but  by  the  persuasion  and  advice 
of  certain  learned  men." 

Another  occasion  was,  n  for  that  he  had  been  the  great 
setter  forth  of  all  the  heresy  received  into  the  Church  in  the 
latter  times;  had  written  in  it,  had  disputed,  had  continued 
it  even  to  the  last  hour;  and  it  had  never  been  seen  in  the 
time  of  schism  that  any  man  continuing  so  long  had  been 
pardoned,  and  that  it  was  not  to  be  remitted  for  example's 
sake." 

"  And  other  causes,"  Cole  added,  "  moved  the  queen  and 
council  thereto,  which  were  not  meet  and  convenient  for 
every  one  to  understand." 

The  explanations  being  finished,  the  preacher  exhorted 
his  audience  to  take  example  from  the  spectacle  before  them, 
to  fear  God,  and  to  learn  that  there  was  no  power  against 
the  Lord.  There,  in  their  presence,  stood  a  man,  once  "of 
so  high  degree — sometime  one  of  the  chief  prelates  of  the 
Church — an  archbishop,  the  chief  of  the  council,  the  second 
person  of  the  realm:  of  long  time,  it  might  be  thought,  in 
great  assurance,  a  king  on  his  side ;  "  and  now,  "  notwith- 
standing all  his  authority  and  defense,  debased  from  a  high 
estate  unto  a  low  degree— of  a  councilor  become  a  caitiff, 
and  set  in  so  wretched  estate  that  the  poorest  wretch  would 
not  change  conditions  with  him." 

Turning,  in  conclusion,  to  Cranmer  himself.   Cole  then 


154  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

"comforted  and  encouraged  him  to  take  his  death  well  by 
many  places  in  Scripture,  bidding  him  nothing  mistrust  but 
that  he  should  incontinently  receive  that  the  thief  did,  to 
whom  Christ  said,  '  To-day  shalt  thou  be  with  me  in  Par- 
adise.' Out  of  Paul  he  armed  him  against  the  terrors  of 
fire,  by  the  words,  '  The  Lord  is  faithful,  and  will  not  suf- 
fer you  to  be  tempted  beyond  that  which  you  are  able  to 
bear;  by  the  example  of  the  three  children,  to  whom  God 
made  the  flame  seem  like  a  pleasant  joy;  by  the  rejoicing 
of  St.  Andrew  on  his  cross;  by  the  patience  of  St.  Lawrence 
on  the  fire."  He  dwelt  upon  his  conversion,  which,  he  said, 
was  the  special  work  of  God,  because  so  many  efforts  had 
been  made  by  men  to  work  upon  him,  and  had  been  made 
in  vain.  God,  in  His  own  time,  had  reclaimed  him,  and 
brought  him  home. 

A  dirge,  the  preacher  said,  should  be  sung  for  him  in 
every  church  in  Oxford;  he  charged  all  the  priests  to  say 
each  a  mass  for  the  repose  of  his  soul;  and  finally,  he  de- 
sired the  congregation  present  to  kneel  where  they  were, 
and  pray  for  him. 

The  whole  crowd  fell  on  their  knees,  the  archbishop  with 
them ;  and  "  I  think,"  says  the  eye-witness,  "  that  there  was 
never  such  a  number  so  earnestly  praying  together;  for 
they  that  hated  him  before  now  loved  him  for  his  conversion 
and  hopes  of  continuance:  they  that  loved  him  before 
could  not  suddenly  hate  him,  having  hope  of  his  confession; 
so  love  and  hope  increased  devotion  on  every  side." 

"  I  shall  not  need,"  says  the  same  writer,  "  to  describe 
his  behavior  for  the  time  of  sermon,  his  sorrowful  coun- 
tenance, his  heavy  cheer,  his  face  bedewed  with  tears;  some- 
times lifting  his  eyes  to  heaven  in  hope,  sometimes  casting 
them  down  to  the  earth  for  shame — to  be  brief,  an  image 
of  sorrow,  the  dolor  of  his  heart  bursting  out  of  his  eyes,  re- 
taining ever  a  quiet  and  grave  behavior,  which  increased 
the  pity  in  men's  hearts." 

His  own  turn  to  speak  was  now  come.  When  the  prayer 
was  finished,  the  preacher  said,  "  Lest  any  man  should  doubt 
the  sincerity  of  this  man's  repentance,  you  shall  hear  him 
speak  before  you.  I  pray  you,  Master  Cranmer,"  he  added, 
turning  to  him,  "  that  you  will  now  perform  that  you  prom- 


THE   BLOODY    MARY.  155 

ised  not  long  ago ;  that  you  would  openly  express  the  true 
and  undoubted  profession  of  your  faith." 

"  I  will  do  it,"  the  archbishop  answered. 

"  Good  Christian  people,"  he  began,  "  my  dear,  beloved 
brethren  and  sisters  in  Christ,  I  beseech  you  most  heartily 
to  pray  for  me  to  Almighty  God  that  He  will  forgive  me  all 
my  sins  and  offenses  which  be  many  and  without  number, 
and  great  above  measure;  one  thing  grieveth  my  conscience 
more  than  all  the  rest,  whereof,  God  willing,  I  shall  speak 
more ;  but  how  many  or  how  great  soever  they  be,  I  be- 
seech you  to  pray  God  of  His  mercy  to  pardon  and  forgive 
them  all." 

Falling  again  on  his  knees: — 

"  O  Father  of  heaven,"  he  prayed,  "  O  Son  of  God, 
Redeemer  of  the  world;  O  Holy  Ghost,  three  Persons  and 
one  God,  have  mercy  upon  me,  most  wretched  caitiff  and 
miserable  sinner.  I  have  offended  both  heaven  and  earth 
more  than  my  tongue  can  express;  whither,  then,  may  I  go, 
or  whither  should  I  flee  for  succor?  To  heaven  I  am 
ashamed  to  lift  up  mine  eyes,  and  in  earth  I  find  no  succor 
nor  refuge.  What  shall  I  do  ?  Shall  I  despair  ?  God  forbid  ! 
Oh,  good  God,  Thou  art  merciful,  and  refusest  none  that 
come  to  Thee  for  succor.  To  Thee,  therefore,  do  I  come ;  to 
Thee  do  I  humble  myself,  saying,  O  Lord,  my  sins  be  great; 
yet  have  mercy  on  me  for  Thy  great  mercy.  The  mystery 
was  not  wrought  that  God  became  man,  for  few  or  little 
offenses.  Thou  didst  not  give  Thy  Son,  O  Father,  for  small 
sins  only,  but  for  all  and  the  greatest  in  the  world,  so  that 
the  sinner  return  to  Thee  with  a  penitent  heart,  as  I  do  at 
this  present.  Wherefore  have  mercy  upon  me,  O  Lord, 
whose  property  is  always  to  have  mercy ;  although  my  sins 
be  great,  yet  is  Thy  mercy  greater;  wherefore  have  mercy 
upon  me,  O  Lord,  for  Thy  great  mercy.  I  crave  nothing, 
O  Lord,  for  mine  own  merits,  but  for  Thy  name's  sake, 
and,  therefore,  O  Father  of  Heaven,  hallowed  be  thy  name." 

Then  rising,  he  went  on  with  his  address: — 

"  Every  man  desireth,  good  people,  at  the  time  of  his 
death,  to  give  some  good  exhortation  that  others  may  re- 
member after  his  death  and  be  the  better  thereby;  for  one 
word  spoken  of  a  man  at  his  last  end  will  be  more  remem- 
bered than  the  sermons  made  of  them  that  live  and  remain. 


156  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

So  I  beseech  God  grant  me  grace,  that  I  may  speak  some- 
thing at  my  departing  whereby  God  may  be  glorified  and 
you  edified. 

"  But  it  is  an  heavy  case  to  see  that  many  folks  be  so 
doted  upon  the  love  of  this  false  world,  and  be  so  careful 
for  it,  that  of  the  love  of  God  or  the  world  to  come  they 
seem  to  care  very  little  or  nothing;  therefore  this  shall  be 
my  first  exhortation — that  you  set  not  overmuch  by  this 
glozing  world,  but  upon  God  and  the  world  to  come;  and 
learn  what  this  lesson  meaneth  which  St.  John  teacheth,  that 
the  love  of  the  world  is  hatred  against  God. 

"  The  second  exhortation  is,  that  next  unto  God,  you  obey 
your  king  and  queen  willingly,  without  murmur  or  grudging, 
not  for  fear  of  them  only,  but  much  more  for  the  fear  of 
God,  knowing  that  they  be  God's  ministers,  appointed  of  God 
to  rule  and  govern  you,  and  therefore  whosoever  resisteth 
them  resisteth  God's  ordinance. 

"  The  third  exhortation  is,  that  you  live  all  together  like 
brethren  and  sisters :  but,  alas !  pity  it  is  to  see  what  con- 
tention and  hatred  one  man  hath  against  another,  not  taking 
each  other  for  brethren  and  sisters,  but  rather  as  strangers 
and  mortal  enemies.  But  I  pray  you  learn  and  bear  well 
away  the  lesson,  to  do  good  to  all  men  as  much  as  in  you 
lieth,  and  hurt  no  man  no  more  than  you  would  hurt  your 
own  natural  brother  or  sister.  For  this  you  may  be  sure, 
that  whosoever  hateth  his  brother  or  sister,  and  goeth  about 
maliciously  to  hinder  or  hurt  him,  surely,  and  without  all 
doubt,  God  is  not  with  that  man,  although  he  think  himself 
never  so  much  in  God's  favor. 

"  The  fourth  exhortation  shall  be  to  them  that  have  great 
substance  and  riches  of  this  world,  that  they  may  well  con- 
sider and  weigh  these  three  sayings  of  the  Scriptures.  One 
is  of  our  Savior  Christ  Himself,  who  saith  that  it  is  a  hard 
thing  for  a  rich  man  to  come  to  heaven ;  a  sore  saying,  and 
spoken  of  Him  that  knoweth  the  truth.  The  second  is  of 
St.  John,  whose  saying  is  this:  He  that  hath  the  substance 
of  this  world,  and  seeth  his  brother  in  necessity,  and  shutteth 
up  his  compassion  and  mercy  from  him,  how  can  he  say  he 
loveth  God?  The  third  is  of  St.  James,  who  speaketh  to  the 
covetous  and  rich  men  after  this  manner:  Weep  and  howl 
for  the  misery  which  shall  come  upon  you;  your  riches  doth 


THE  BLOODY    MARY.  157 

rot,  your  clothes  be  moth-eaten,  your  gold  and  silver  is 
cankered  and  rusty,  and  the  rust  thereof  shall  bear  witness 
against  you,  and  consume  you  like  fire;  you  gather  and 
hoard  up  treasure  of  God's  indignation  against  the  last  day. 
I  tell  them  which  be  rich,  ponder  these  sentences;  for  if 
ever  they  had  occasion  to  show  their  charity,  they  have  it 
now  at  this  present;  the  poor  people  being  so  many,  and 
victuals  so  dear;  for  although  I  have  been  long  in  prison, 
yet  have  I  heard  of  the  great  penury  of  the  poor." 

The  people  listened  breathless,  "  intending  upon  the  con- 
clusion." 

"  And  now,"  he  went  on,  "  forasmuch  as  I  come  to  the 
last  end  of  my  life,  whereupon  hangeth  all  my  life  past  and 
all  my  life  to  come,  either  to  live  with  my  Savior  Christ  in 
joy,  or  else  to  be  ever  in  pain  with  wicked  devils  in  hell; 
and  I  see  before  mine  eyes  presently  either  heaven  " — and  he 
pointed  upwards  with  his  hand —  "  or  hell,"  and  he  pointed 
downwards,  "  ready  to  swallow  me,  I  shall  therefore  declare 
unto  you  my  very  faith,  without  color  or  dissimulation ;  for 
now  it  is  no  time  to  dissemble.  I  believe  in  God  the  Father 
Almighty,  Maker  of  heaven  and  earth;  in  every  article  of 
the  Catholic  faith;  every  word  and  sentence  taught  by  our 
Savior  Christ,  His  apostles,  and  prophets,  in  the  Old  and 
New  Testament. 

"  And  now  I  come  to  the  great  thing  that  troubleth  my 
conscience  more  than  any  other  thing  that  ever  I  said  or 
did  in  my  life,  and  that  is  the  setting  abroad  of  writings 
contrary  to  the  truth,  which  here  I  now  renounce  and  refuse, 
as  things  written  with  my  hand  contrary  to  the  truth  which 
I  thought  in  my  heart,  and  written  for  fear  of  death  to  save 
my  life,  if  it  might  be:  and  that  is,  all  such  bills  and  papers 
as  I  have  written  and  signed  with  my  hand  since  my  degrada- 
tion wherein  I  have  written  many  things  untrue;  and  for- 
asmuch as  my  hand  offended  in  writing  contrary  to  my  heart, 
my  hand  therefore  shall  first  be  punished ;  for  if  I  may 
come  to  the  fire,  it  shall  be  the  first  burned.  As  for  the  Pope. 
I  utterly  refuse  him,  as  Christ's  enemy  and  Antichrist,  with 
all  his  false  doctrine ;  and  as  for  the  Sacrament,  I  believe  as 
I  have  taught  in  my  book  against  the  Bishop  of  Winchester." 

So  far  the  archbishop  was  allowed  to  continue,  before 
his  astonished  hearers  could  collect  themselves.  "  Play  the 


158  THE   VOICE  OF    HISTORY. 

Christian  man,''  Lord  Williams  at  length  was  able  to  call; 
"  remember  yourself ;  do  not  dissemble."  "  Alas  !  my  Lord," 
the  archbishop  answered,  "  I  have  been  a  man  that  all  my 
life  loved  plainness,  and  never  dissembled  till  now,  which  I 
am  most  sorry  for."  He  would  have  gone  on ;  but  cries 
now  rose  on  all  sides,  "  Pull  him  down,"  "  Stop  his  mouth," 
"  Away  with  him,"  and  he  was  borne  off  by  the  throng  out 
of  the  church.  The  stake  was  a  quarter  of  a  mile  distant,  at 
the  spot  already  consecrated  by  the  deaths  of  Ridley  and 
Latiraer.  Priests  and  monks  "  who  did  rue  to  see  him  go  so 
wickedly  to  his  death,  ran  after  him,  exhorting  him,  while 
time  was,  to  remember  himself."  But  Cranmer,  having  flung 
down  the  burden  of  his  shame,  had  recovered  his  strength, 
and  such  words  had  no  longer  power  to  trouble  him.  He 
approached  the  stake  with  "  a  cheerful  countenance,"  un- 
dressed in  haste,  and  stood  upright  in  his  shirt.  Soto  and 
another  Spanish  friar  continued  expostulating;  but  finding 
they  could  effect  nothing,  one  said  in  Latin  to  the  other, 
"  Let  us  go  from  him,  for  the  devil  is  within  him."  An 
Oxford  theologian — his  name  was  Ely — being  more  clamor- 
ous, drew  from  him  only  the  answer  that,  as  touching  his 
recantation,  "he  repented  him  right  sore,  because  he  knew 
that  it  was  against  the  truth." 

"  Make  short,  make  short !  "  Lord  Williams  cried,  hastily. 

The  archbishop  shook  hands  with  his  friends;  Ely  only 
drew  back,  calling,  "  Recant,  recant,"  and  bidding  others  not 
approach  him. 

"  This  was  the  hand  that  wrote  it,"  Cramner  said,  ex- 
tending his  right  arm;  "this  was  the  hand  that  wrote  it, 
therefore  it  shall  suffer  first  punishment."  Before  his  body 
was  touched,  he  held  the  offending  member  steadily  in  the 
flame,  "  and  never  stirred  nor  cried."  The  wood  was  dry 
and  mercifully  laid;  the  fire  was  rapid  at  its  work,  and  he 
was  soon  dead.  "  His  friends,"  said  a  Catholic  bystander, 
"  sorrowed  for  love,  his  enemies  for  pity,  strangers  for  a 
common  kind  of  humanity,  whereby  we  are  bound  to  one 
another." 


INQUISITION    UNDER    FERDINAND   AND   ISABELLA.    159 

The  Inquisition  under  Ferdinand  and  Isabella. 

Prescott's  Ferdinand  and  Isabella. 

This  chapter  of  Prescott's  reliable  history  is  certainly  one 
of  the  most  enlightening  portrayals  of  a  society  of  men  who 
claim  to  be  God's  representatives,  but  who  in  reality  have  ex- 
hibited all  those  qualities  which  are  usually  ascribed  to  Satan 
only.  All  true  history  has  its  worth,  but  it  is  just  such  portions 
of  it  as  this  that  throw  a  light  upon  the  condition  of  humanity 
which  will  be  of  abiding  profit  to  those  who  study  it  aright. 

Those  who  seek  more  information  on  the  history  of  the 
Inquisition  we  refer  to  the  famous  work  of  D.  Jean  Antoine 
Llorente,  The  History  of  the  Inquisition  of  Spain,  from  the 
Time  of  Its  Establishment  to  the  Reign  of  Ferdinand  VII. 
Composed  from  the  Original  Documents  in  the  Archives  of 
the  Supreme  Council,  and  from  those  of  Subordinate  Tribunals 
of  the  Holy  Office.  8vo,  London,  1826.  This  is  a  free  trans- 
lation of  the  voluminous  Spanish  work,  so  abridged  as  to  make 
it  more  readable  and  also  more  accessible  to  the  general  public. 
Llorente  was  the  secretary  of  the  Inquisition,  a  man  of  great 
learning,  having  in  his  possession  the  documents  wherein  this 
fiendish  institution  has  given  the  most  damaging  testimony 
against  itself.  Prescott  says  of  Llorente's  work :  "  It  well 
deserves  to  be  studied,  as  the  record  of  the  most  humiliating 
triumph  which  fanaticism  has  ever  been  able  to  obtain  over 
human  reason,  and  that,  too,  during  the  most  civilized  periods, 
and  in  the  most  civilized  portions  of  the  world."  And  then  he 
adds  significantly :  "  The  persecutions  endured  by  the  unfor- 
tunate author  of  the  work  prove  that  the  embers  of  this 
fanaticism  may  be  rekindled  too  easily,  even  in  the  present 
century." 

In  the  present  liberal  state  of  knowledge  we  look  with 
disgust  at  the  pretensions  of  any  human  being,  however  ex- 
alted, to  invade  the  sacred  rights  of  conscience,  inalienably 
possessed  by  every  man.  We  feel  that  the  spiritual  con- 
cerns of  an  individual  may  be  safely  left  to  himself  as  most 
interested  in  them,  except  so  far  as  they  can  be  affected  by 
argument  or  friendly  monition;  that  the  idea  of  compelling 
belief  in  particular  doctrines  is  a  solecism,  as  absurd  as 
wicked;  and.  so  far  from  condemning  to  the  stake,  or  the 
gibbet,  men  who  pertinaciously  adhere  to  their  conscientious 
opinions  in  contempt  of  personal  interests  and  in  the  face  of 
danger,  we  should  rather  feel  disposed  to  imitate  the  spirit  of 
antiquity  in  raising  altars  and  statues  to  their  memory,  as 
having  displayed  the  highest  efforts  of  human  virtue.  But, 


160  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

although  these  truths  are  now  so  obvious  as  rather  to  deserve 
the  name  of  truisms,  the  world  has  been  slow,  very  slow,  in 
arriving  at  them,  after  many  centuries  of  unspeakable  oppres- 
sion and  misery. 

*  *  * 

The  policy  of  the  Roman  Church,  at  that  time,  was  not 
only  shown  in  its  perversion  of  some  of  the  most  obvious 
principles  of  morality,  but  in  the  discouragement  of  all  free 
inquiry  in  its  disciples,  whom  it  instructed  to  rely  implicitly 
in  matters  of  conscience  on  their  spiritual  advisers.  The 
artful  institution  of  the  tribunal  of  confession,  established 
with  this  view,  brought,  as  it  were,  the  whole  Christian 
world  at  the  feet  of  the  clergy,  who,  far  from  being  always 
animated  by  the  meek  spirit  of  the  Gospel,  almost  justified 
the  reproach  of  Voltaire,  that  confessors  have  been  the  source 
of  most  of  the  violent  measures  pursued  by  princes  of  the 
Catholic  faith. 

Isabella's  serious  temper,  as  well  as  early  education, 
naturally  disposed  her  to  religious  influences.  Notwith- 
standing the  independence  exhibited  by  her  in  all  secular 
affairs,  in  her  own  spiritual  concerns  she  uniformly  testified 
the  deepest  humility,  and  deferred  too  implicitly  to  what  she 
deemed  the  superior  sagacity,  or  sanctity,  of  her  spiritual 
advisers.  An  instance  of  this  humility  may  be  worth  record- 
ing. When  Fray  Fernando  de  Talavera,  afterwards  arch- 
bishop of  Granada,  who  had  been  appointed  confessor  to  the 
Queen,  attended  her  for  the  first  time  in  that  capacity,  he 
continued  seated,  after  she  had  knelt  down  to  make  her  con- 
fession, which  drew  from  her  the  remark,  "  that  it  was  usual 
for  both  parties  to  kneel."  "  No,"  replied  the  priest,  "  this 
is  God's  tribunal ;  I  act  here  as  His  minister,  and  it  is  fitting 
that  I  should  keep  my  seat,  while  your  Highness  kneels  be- 
fore me."  Isabella,  far  from  taking  umbrage  at  the  ecclesi- 
astic's arrogant  demeanor,  complied  with  all  humility,  and 
was  afterwards  heard  to  say,  "  This  is  the  confessor  that  I 
wanted." 

Well  had  it  been  for  the  land  if  the  Queen's  conscience 
had  always  been  intrusted  to  the  keeping  of  persons  of  such 
exemplary  piety  as  Talavera.  Unfortunately,  in  her  early 
days,  during  the  lifetime  of  her  brother  Henry,  that  charge 
was  committed  to  a  Dominican  monk,  Thomas  de  Torque- 


INQUISITION    UNDER    FERDINAND   AND   ISABELLA.     161 

mada,  a  native  of  old  Castile,  subsequently  raised  to  the 
rank  of  prior  of  Santa  Cruz  in  Segovia,  and  condemned  to 
infamous  immortality  by  the  signal  part  which  he  performed 
in  the  tragedy  of  the  Inquisition.  This  man,  who  concealed 
more  pride  under  his  monastic  weeds  than  might  have  fur- 
nished forth  a  convent  of  his  order,  was  one  of  that  class 
with  whom  zeal  passes  for  religion,  and  who  testify  their 
zeal  by  a  fiery  persecution  of  those  whose  creed  differs  from 
their  own.  This  personage  had  earnestly  labored  to  infuse 
into  Isabella's  young  mind,  to  which  his  situation  as  her 
confessor  gave  him  such  ready  access,  the  same  spirit  of 
fanaticism  that  glowed  in  his  own.  Fortunately,  this  was 
greatly  counteracted  by  her  sound  understanding  and  natural 
kindness  of  heart.  Torquemada  urged  her,  or,  indeed,  as  is 
stated  by  some,  extorted  a  promise,  that,  "  should  she  ever 
come  to  the  throne  she  would  devote  herself  to  the  extirpa- 
tion of  heresy,  for  the  glory  of  God  and  the  exaltation  of 
the  Catholic  faith."  The  time  was  now  arrived  when  this 
fatal  promise  was  to  be  discharged. 

It  is  due  to  Isabella's  fame  to  state  thus  much  in  pallia- 
tion of  the  unfortunate  error  into  which  she  was  led  by  her 
misguided  zeal ;  an  error  so  grave,  that,  like  a  vein  in  some 
noble  piece  of  statuary,  it  gives  a  sinister  expression  to  her 
otherwise  unblemished  character.  It  was  not  until  the  Queen 
had  endured  the  repeated  importunities  of  the  clergy,  par- 
ticularly of  those  reverend  persons  in  whom  she  most  con- 
fided, seconded  by  the  arguments  of  Ferdinand,  that  she  con- 
sented to  solicit  from  the  pope  a  bull  for  the  introduction  of 
the  Holy  Office  into  Castile.  Sixtus  IV,  who  at  that  time 
filled  the  pontifical  chair,  easily  discerning  the  sources  of 
wealth  and  influence  which  this  measure  opened  to  the  court 
of  Rome,  readily  complied  with  the  petition  of  the  sovereigns, 
and  expedited  a  bull  bearing  date  November  i,  1478,  author- 
izing them  to  appoint  two  or  three  ecclesiastics,  inquisitors  for 
the  detection  and  suppression  of  heresy  throughout  their 
dominions. 

The  Queen,  however,  still  averse  to  violent  measures, 
suspended  the  operation  of  the  ordinance  until  a  more  lenient 
policy  had  been  first  tried.  By  her  command,  accordingly, 
the  archbishop  of  Seville,  Cardinal  Mendoza,  drew  up  a  cate- 
chism exhibiting  the  different  points  of  the  Catholic  faith, 
11 


162  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

and  instructed  the  clergy  throughout  his  diocese  to  spare  no 
pains  in  illuminating  the  benighted  Israelites  by  means  of 
friendly  exhortation  and  a  candid  exposition  of  the  true 
principles  of  Christianity.  How  far  the  spirit  of  these  in- 
junctions was  complied  with,  amid  the  excitement  then  pre- 
vailing, may  be  reasonably  doubted.  There  could  be  little 
doubt,  however,  that  a  report,  made  two  years  later,  by  a 
commission  of  ecclesiastics,  with  Alfonso  de  Ojeda  at  its 
head,  respecting  the  progress  of  the  reformation,  would  be 
necessarily  unfavorable  to  the  Jews.  In  consequence  of  this 
report  the  papal  provisions  were  enforced  by  the  nomination, 
on  the  1 7th  of  September,  1480,  of  two  Dominican  monks  as 
inquisitors,  with  two  other  ecclesiastics,  the  one  as  assessor, 
and  the  other  as  procurator  fiscal,  with  instructions  to  pro- 
ceed at  once  to  Seville,  and  enter  on  the  duties  of  their  office. 
Orders  were  also  issued  to  the  authorities  of  the  city  to  sup- 
port the  inquisitors  by  all  the  aid  in  their  power.  But  the 
new  institution,  which  has  since  become  the  miserable  boast 
of  the  Castilians,  proved  so  distasteful  to  them  in  its  origin 
that  they  refused  any  cooperation  with  its  ministers,  and  in- 
deed opposed  such  delays  and  embarrassments,  that,  during 
the  first  years,  it  can  scarcely  be  said  to  have  obtained  a 
footing  in  any  other  places  in  Andalusia  than  those  belong- 
ing to  the  crown. 

On  the  2d  of  January,  1481,  the  court  commenced  opera- 
tions by  the  publication  of  an  edict,  followed  by  several 
others,  requiring  all  persons  to  aid  in  apprehending  and 
accusing  all  such  as  they  might  know  or  suspect  to  be  guilty 
of  heresy,  and  holding  out  the  illusory  promise  of  absolution 
to  such  as  should  confess  their  errors  within  a  limited  period. 
As  every  mode  of  accusation,  even  anonymous,  was  invited, 
the  number  of  victims  multiplied  so  fast  that  the  tribunal 
found  it  convenient  to  remove  its  sittings  from  the  convent 
of  St.  Paul,  within  the  city,  to  the  spacious  fortress  of  Triana, 
in  the  suburbs. 

The  presumptive  proofs  by  which  the  charge  of  Judaism 
was  established  against  the  accused  are  so  curious  that  a 
few  of  them  may  deserve  notice.  It  was  considered  good 
evidence  of  the  fact,  if  the  prisoner  wore  better  clothes  or 
cleaner  linen  on  the  Jewish  Sabbath  than  on  other  days  of 
the  week;  if  he  had  no  fire  in  his  house  the  preceding  even- 


INQUISITION    UNDER    FERDINAND   AND   ISABELLA.     163 

ing;  if  he  sat  at  table  with  Jews,  or  ate  the  meat  of  animals 
slaughtered  by  their  hands,  or  drank  a  certain  beverage  held 
in  much  estimation  by  them ;  if  he  washed  a  corpse  in  warm 
water,  or  when  dying  turned  his  face  to  the  wall ;  or,  finally, 
if  he  gave  Hebrew  names  to  his  children ;  a  provision  most 
whimsically  cruel,  since,  by  a  law  of  Henry  II,  he  was  pro- 
hibited under  severe  penalties  from  giving  them  Christian 
names.  He  must  have  found  it  difficult  to  extricate  himself 
from  the  horns  of  this  dilemma.  Such  are  a  few  of  the  cir- 
cumstances, some  of  them  purely  accidental  in  their  nature, 
others  the  result  of  early  habit,  which  might  well  have  con- 
tinued after  a  sincere  conversion  to  Christianity,  and  all  of 
them  trivial,  on  which  capital  accusations  were  to  be  alleged, 
and  even  satisfactorily  established. 

The  inquisitors,  adopting  the  wily  and  tortuous  policy  of 
the  ancient  tribunal,  proceeded  with  a  dispatch  which  shows 
that  they  could  have  paid  little  deference  even  to  this  affec- 
tation of  legal  form.  On  the  sixth  day  of  January,  six  con- 
victs suffered  at  the  stake.  Seventeen  more  were  executed  in 
March,  and  a  still  greater  number  in  the  month  following; 
and  by  the  4th  of  November  in  the  same  year,  no  less  than 
two  hundred  and  ninety-eight  individuals  had  been  sacrificed 
in  the  autos  da  fe  of  Seville.  Besides  these,  the  moldering 
remains  of  many  who  had  been  tried  and  convicted  after 
their  death  were  torn  up  from  their  graves,  with  a  hyena-like 
ferocity,  which  has  disgraced  no  other  court,  Christian  or 
pagan,  and  condemned  to  the  common  funeral  pile.  This  was 
prepared  on  a  spacious  stone  scaffold,  erected  in  the  suburbs 
of  the  city,  with  the  statues  of  four  prophets  attached  to  the 
corners,  to  which  the  unhappy  sufferers  were  bound  for  the 
sacrifice,  and  which  the  worthy  curate  of  Los  Palacios  cele- 
brates with  much  complacency  as  the  spot  "  where  heretics 
were  burned,  and  ought  to  burn  as  long  as  any  can  be  found." 

Many  of  the  convicts  were  persons  estimable  for  learning 
and  probity;  and,  among  these,  three  clergymen  are  named, 
together  with  other  individuals  filling  judicial  or  high  munici- 
pal stations.  The  sword  of  justice  was  observed,  in  par- 
ticular, to  strike  at  the  wealthy,  the  least  pardonable  offenders 
in  times  of  proscription. 

The  plague  which  desolated  Seville  this  year,  sweeping 
off  fifteen  thousand  inhabitants,  as  if  in  token  of  the  wrath 


164  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

of  Heaven  at  these  enormities,  did  not  palsy  for  a  moment 
the  arm  of  the  Inquisition,  which,  adjourning  to  Aracena, 
continued  as  indefatigable  as  before.  A  similar  persecution 
went  forward  in  other  parts  of  the  province  of  Andalusia,  so 
that  within  the  same  year,  1481,  the  number  of  the  sufferers 
was  computed  at  two  thousand  burned  alive,  a  still  greater 
number  in  effigy,  and  seventeen  thousand  reconciled,  a  term 
which  must  not  be  understood  by  the  reader  to  signify  any- 
thing like  a  pardon  or  amnesty,  but  only  the  commutation  of 
a  capital  sentence  for  inferior  penalties,  as  fines,  civil  inca- 
pacity, very  generally  total  confiscation  of  property,  and  not 
unfrequently  imprisonment  for  life. 

The  Jews  were  astounded  by  the  bolt  which  had  fallen  so 
unexpectedly  upon  them.  Some  succeeded  in  making  their 
escape  to  Granada,  others  to  France,  Germany,  or  Italy, 
where  they  appealed  from  the  decisions  of  the  Holy  Office  to 
the  sovereign  pontiff.  Sixtus  IV  appears  for  a  moment  to 
have  been  touched  with  something  like  compunction;  for  he 
rebuked  the  intemperate  zeal  of  the  inquisitors,  and  even 
menaced  them  with  deprivation.  But  these  feelings,  it  would 
seem,  were  but  transient;  for,  in  1483,  we  find  the  same 
pontiff  quieting  the  scruples  of  Isabella  respecting  the  appro- 
priation of  the  confiscated  property,  and  encouraging  both 
sovereigns  to  proceed  in  the  great  work  of  purification,  by 
an  audacious  reference  to  the  example  of  Jesus  Christ,  who, 
says  he,  consolidated  His  kingdom  on  earth  by  the  destruc- 
tion of  idolatry;  and  he  concludes  with  imputing  their  suc- 
cesses in  the  Moorish  war,  upon  which  they  had  then  entered, 
to  their  zeal  for  the  faith,  and  promising  them  the  like  in 
future.  In  the  course  of  the  same  year,  he  expedited  two 
briefs,  appointing  Thomas  de  Torquemada  inquisitor-general 
of  Castile  and  Aragon,  and  clothing  him  with  full  powers  to 
frame  a  new  constitution  for  the  Holy  Office.  This  was  the 
origin  of  that  terrible  tribunal,  the  Spanish  or  modern  In- 
quisition, familiar  to  most  readers,  whether  of  history  or 
romance,  which  for  three  centuries  has  extended  its  iron  sway 
over  the  dominions  of  Spain  and  Portugal.  Without  going 
into  details  respecting  the  organization  of  its  various  courts, 
which  gradually  swelled  to  thirteen  during  the  present  reign, 
I  shall  endeavor  to  exhibit  the  principles  which  regulated 
their  proceedings,  as  deduced  in  part  from  the  code  digested 


INQUISITION    UNDER   FERDINAND   AND   ISABELLA.     165 

under  Torquemada,  and  partly  from  the  practice  which  ob- 
tained during  his  supremacy. 

Edicts  were  ordered  to  be  published  annually,  on  the  first 
two  Sundays  in  Lent,  throughout  the  churches,  enjoining  it 
as  a  sacred  duty  on  all  who  knew  or  suspected  another  to 
be  guilty  of  heresy  to  lodge  information  against  him  before 
the  Holy  Office ;  and  the  ministers  of  religion  were  instructed 
to  refuse  absolution  to  such  as  hesitated  to  comply  with  this, 
although  the  suspected  person  might  stand  in  the  relation  of 
parent,  child,  husband,  or  wife.  All  accusations,  anonymous 
as  well  as  signed,  were  admitted,  it  being  only  necessary  to 
specify  the  names  of  the  witnesses,  whose  testimony  was 
taken  down  in  writing  by  a  secretary,  and  afterwards  read 
to  them,  which,  unless  the  inaccuracies  were  so  gross  as  to 
force  themselves  upon  their  attention,  they  seldom  failed  to 
confirm. 

The  accused,  in  the  mean  time,  whose  mysterious  disap- 
pearance was  perhaps  the  only  public  evidence  of  his  arrest, 
was  conveyed  to  the  secret  chambers  of  the  Inquisition,  where 
he  was  jealously  excluded  from  intercourse  with  all,  save  a 
priest  of  the  Romish  Church  and  his  jailer,  both  of  whom 
might  be  regarded  as  the  spies  of  the  tribunal.  In  this  deso- 
late condition,  the  unfortunate  man,  cut  off  from  external 
communication  and  all  cheering  sympathy  or  support,  was 
kept  for  some  time  in  ignorance  even  of  the  nature  of  the 
charges  preferred  against  him,  and  at  length,  instead  of  the 
original  process,  was  favored  only  with  extracts  from  the 
depositions  of  the  witnesses,  so  garbled  as  to  conceal  every 
possible  clue  to  their  name  and  quality.  With  still  greater 
unfairness,  no  mention  whatever  was  made  of  such  testimony 
as  had  arisen,  in  the  course  of  the  examination,  in  his  own 
favor.  Counsel  was  indeed  allowed  from  a  list  presented  by 
his  judges.  But  this  privilege  availed  little,  since  the  parties 
were  not  permitted  to  confer  together,  and  the  advocate  was 
furnished  with  no  other  sources  of  information  than  what 
had  been  granted  to  his  client.  To  add  to  the  injustice  of 
these  proceedings,  every  discrepancy  in  the  statements  of 
the  witnesses  was  converted  into  a  separate  charge  against 
the  prisoner,  who  thus,  instead  of  one  crime,  stood  accused 
of  several.  This,  taken  in  connection  with  the  concealment 
of  time,  place,  and  circumstance  in  the  accusations,  created 


166  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

such  embarrassment,  that,  unless  the  accused  was  possessed 
of  unusual  acuteness  and  presence  of  mind,  it  was  sure  to 
involve  him,  in  his  attempts  to  explain,  in  inextricable  con- 
tradiction. 

If  the  prisoner  refused  to  confess  his  guilt,  or,  as  was 
usual,  was  suspected  of  evasion,  or  an  attempt  to  conceal  the 
truth,  he  was  subjected  to  the  torture.  This,  which  was 
administered  in  the  deepest  vaults  of  the  Inquisition,  where 
the  cries  of  the  victim  could  fall  on  no  ear  save  that  of  his 
tormentors,  is  admitted  by  the  secretary  of  the  Holy  Office, 
who  has  furnished  the  most  authentic  report  of  its  transac- 
tions, not  to  have  been  exaggerated  in  any  of  the  numerous 
narratives  which  have  dragged  these  subterranean  horrors 
into  light.  If  the  intensity  of  pain  extorted  a  confession 
from  the  sufferer,  he  was  expected,  if  he  survived,  which  did 
not  always  happen,  to  confirm  it  on  the  next  day.  Should  he 
refuse  to  do  this,  his  mutilated  members  were  condemned  to 
a  repetition  of  the  same  sufferings,  until  his  obstinacy  (it 
should  rather  have  been  termed  his  heroism)  might  be  van- 
quished. Should  the  rack,  however,  prove  ineffectual  to  force 
a  confession  of  his  guilt,  he  was  so  far  from  being  considered 
as  having  established  his  innocence,  that,  with  a  barbarity 
unknown  to  any  tribunal  where  the  torture  has  been  ad- 
mitted, and  which  of  itself  proves  its  utter  incompetency  to 
the  ends  it  proposes,  he  was  not  unfrequently  convicted  on 
the  depositions  of  the  witnesses.  At  the  conclusion  of  his 
mock  trial,  the  prisoner  was  again  returned  to  his  dungeon, 
where,  without  the  blaze  of  a  single  fagot  to  dispel  the  cold, 
or  illuminate  the  darkness  of  the  long  winter  night,  he  was 
left  in  unbroken  silence  to  await  the  doom  which  was  to 
consign  him  to  an  ignominious  death,  or  a  life  scarcely  less 
ignominious. 

The  proceedings  of  the  tribunal,  as  I  have  stated  them, 
were  plainly  characterized  throughout  by  the  most  flagrant 
injustice  and  inhumanity  to  the  accused.  Instead  of  pre- 
suming his  innocence  until  his  guilt  had  been  established,  it 
acted  on  exactly  the  opposite  principle.  Instead  of  affording 
him  the  protection  accorded  by  every  other  judicature,  and 
especially  demanded  in  his  forlorn  situation,  it  used  the  most 
insidious  arts  to  circumvent  and  to  crush  him.  He  had  no 
remedy  against  malice  or  misapprehension  on  the  part  of  his 


INQUISITION    UNDER    FERDINAND   AND   ISABELLA.     167 

accusers,  or  the  witnesses  against  him,  who  might  be  his 
bitterest  enemies,  since  they  were  never  revealed  to,  nor  con- 
fronted with,  the  prisoner,  nor  subjected  to  a  cross-examina- 
tion, which  can  best  expose  error  or  willful  collusion  in  the 
evidence.  Even  the  poor  forms  of  justice,  recognized  in  this 
court,  might  be  readily  dispensed  with,  as  its  proceedings 
were  impenetrably  shrouded  from  the  public  eye,  by  the  ap- 
palling oath  of  secrecy  imposed  on  all,  whether  functionaries, 
witnesses,  or  prisoners,  who  entered  within  its  precincts. 
The  last,  and  not  the  least  odious  feature  of  the  whole,  was 
the  connection  established  between  the  condemnation  of  the 
accused  and  the  interests  of  his  judges,  since  the  confisca- 
tions, which  were  the  uniform  penalties  of  heresy,  were  not 
permitted  to  flow  into  the  royal  exchequer  until  they  had  first 
discharged  the  expenses,  whether  in  the  shape  of  salaries  or 
otherwise,  incident  to  the  Holy  Office. 

The  last  scene  in  this  dismal  tragedy  was  the  act  of  faith 
(auto  da  fe),  the  most  imposing  spectacle,  probably,  which 
has  been  witnessed  since  the  ancient  Roman  triumph,  and 
which,  as  intimated  by  a  Spanish  writer,  was  intended,  some- 
what profanely,  to  represent  the  terrors  of  the  Day  of  Judg- 
ment. The  proudest  grandees  of  the  land,  on  this  occasion, 
putting  on  the  sable  livery  of  familiars  of  the  Holy  Office 
and  bearing  aloft  its  banners,  condescended  to  act  as  the  es- 
cort of  its  ministers,  while  the  ceremony  was  not  unfre- 
quently  countenanced  by  the  royal  presence.  It  should  be 
stated,  however,  that  neither  of  these  acts  of  condescension, 
or,  more  properly,  humiliation,  were  witnessed  until  a  period 
posterior  to  the  present  reign.  The  effect  was  further 
heightened  by  the  concourse  of  ecclesiastics  in  their  sacerdotal 
robes,  and  the  pompous  ceremonial,  which  the  Church  of 
Rome  knows  so  well  how  to  display  on  fitting  occasions,  and 
which  was  intended  to  consecrate,  as  it  were,  this  bloody  sac- 
rifice by  the  authority  of  a  religion  which  has  expressly 
declared  that  it  desires  mercy,  and  not  sacrifice. 

The  most  important  actors  in  the  scene  were  the  unfor- 
tunate convicts,  who  were  now  disgorged  for  the  first  time 
from  the  dungeons  of  the  tribunal.  They  were  clad  in  coarse 
woolen  garments,  styled  son  benitos,  brought  close  round  the 
neck,  and  descending  like  a  frock  down  to  the  knees.  These 
were  of  a  yellow  color,  embroidered  with  a  scarlet  cross,  and 


168  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

well  garnished  with  figures  of  devils  and  flames  of  fire, 
which,  typical  of  the  heretic's  destiny  hereafter,  served  to 
make  him  more  odious  in  the  eyes  of  the  superstitious  multi- 
tude. The  greater  part  of  the  sufferers  were  condemned  to  be 
reconciled,  the  manifold  meanings  of  which  soft  phrase  have 
been  already  explained.  Those  who  were  to  be  relaxed,  as  it 
was  called,  were  delivered  over,  as  impenitent  heretics,  to  the 
secular  arm,  in  order  to  expiate  their  offense  by  the  most 
painful  of  deaths,  with  the  consciousness,  still  more  painful, 
that  they  were  to  leave  behind  them  names  branded  with  in- 
famy, and  families  involved  in  irretrievable  ruin. 

It  is  remarkable  that  a  scheme  so  monstrous  as  that  of 
the  Inquisition,  presenting  the  most  effectual  barrier,  prob- 
ably, that  was  ever  opposed  to  the  progress  of  knowledge, 
should  have  been  revived  at  the  close  of  the  fifteenth  century, 
when  the  light  of  civilization  was  rapidly  advancing  over 
every  part  of  Europe.  It  is  more  remarkable  that  it  should 
have  occurred  in  Spain,  at  this  time  under  a  government 
which  had  displayed  great  religious  independence  on  more 
than  one  occasion,  and  which  had  paid  uniform  regard  to  the 
rights  of  its  subjects,  and  pursued  a  generous  policy  in  refer- 
ence to  their  intellectual  culture.  Where,  we  are  tempted 
to  ask,  when  we  behold  the  persecution  of  an  innocent,  in- 
dustrious people  for  the  crime  of  adhesion  to  the  faith  of 
their  ancestors,  where  was  the  charity  which  led  the  old 
Castilian  to  reverence  valor  and  virtue  in  an  infidel,  though 
an  enemy?  Where  the  chivalrous  self-devotion  which 
led  an  Aragonese  monarch,  three  centuries  before,  to  give 
away  his  life,  in  defense  of  the  persecuted  sectaries  of  Pro- 
vence? Where  the  independent  spirit  which  prompted  the 
Castilian  nobles,  during  the  very  last  reign,  to  reject  with 
scorn  the  proposed  interference  of  the  pope  himself,  in 
their  concerns,  that  they  were  now  reduced  to  bow  their 
necks  to  a  few  frantic  priests,  the  members  of  an  order, 
which,  in  Spain  at  least,  was  quite  as  conspicuous  for  igno- 
rance as  intolerance?  True,  indeed,  the  Castilians,  and  the 
Aragonese  subsequently  still  more,  gave  such  evidence  of 
their  aversion  to  the  institution  that  it  can  hardly  be  believed 
the  clergy  would  have  succeeded  in  fastening  it  upon  them, 
had  they  not  availed  themselves  of  the  popular  prejudices 
against  the  Jews.  Providence,  however,  permitted  that  the 


INQUISITION    UNDER    FERDINAND  AND   ISABELLA.     161> 

sufferings,  thus  heaped  on  the  heads  of  this  unfortunate  peo- 
ple, should  be  requited  in  full  measure  to  the  nation  that  in- 
flicted them.  The  fires  of  the  Inquisition,  which  were  lighted 
exclusively  for  the  Jews,  were  destined  eventually  to  con- 
sume their  oppressors.  They  were  still  more  deeply  avenged 
in  the  moral  influence  of  this  tribunal,  which,  eating  like  a 
pestilent  canker  into  the  heart  of  the  monarchy,  at  the  very 
time  when  it  was  exhibiting  a  most  goodly  promise,  left  it  at 
length  a  bare  and  sapless  trunk. 

Notwithstanding  the  persecutions  under  Torquemada  were 
confined  almost  wholly  to  the  Jews,  his  activity  was  such  as 
to  furnish  abundant  precedent,  in  regard  to  forms  of  pro- 
ceeding, for  his  successors;  if,  indeed,  the  word  forms  may 
be  applied  to  the  conduct  of  trials  so  summary  that  the  tribu- 
nal of  Toledo  alone,  under  the  superintendence  of  two  in- 
quisitors, disposed  of  three  thousand  three  hundred  and 
twenty-seven  processes  in  little  more  than  a  year.  The  num- 
ber of  convicts  was  greatly  swelled  by  the  blunders  of  the 
Dominican  monks,  who  acted  as  qualificators,  or  interpreters 
of  what  constituted  heresy,  and  whose  ignorance  led  them 
frequently  to  condemn  as  heterodox  propositions  actually 
derived  from  the  fathers  of  the  church.  The  prisoners  for 
life,  alone,  became  so  numerous  that  it  was  necessary  to 
assJgn  them  their  own  houses  as  the  places  of  their  incar- 
ceration. 

The  data  for  an  accurate  calculation  of  the  number  of 
victims  sacrificed  by  the  Inquisition  during  this  reign  are 
not  very  satisfactory.  From  such  as  exist,  however,  Llorente 
has  been  led  to  the  most  frightful  results.  He  computes  that, 
during  the  eighteen  years  of  Torquemada's  ministry,  there 
were  no  less  than  10,220  burned,  6,860  condemned,  and 
burned  in  effigy  as  absent  or  dead,  and  97,321  reconciled  by 
various  other  penances,  affording  an  average  of  more  than 
6,000  convicted  persons  annually.  In  this  enormous  sum  of 
human  misery  is  not  included  the  multitude  of  orphans,  who, 
from  the  confiscation  of  their  paternal  inheritance,  were 
turned  over  to  indigence  and  vice.  Many  of  the  reconciled 
were  afterwards  sentenced  as  relapsed :  and  the  curate  of  Los 
Palacios  expresses  the  charitable  wish  that  "  the  whole  ac- 
cursed race  of  Jews,  male  and  female,  of  twenty  years  of  age 
and  upwards,  might  be  purified  with  fire  and  fagot !  " 


170  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

The  vast  apparatus  of  the  Inquisition  involved  so  heavy  an 
expenditure  that  a  very  small  sum,  comparatively,  found  its 
way  into  the  exchequer  to  counterbalance  the  great  detriment 
resulting  to  the  state  from  the  sacrifice  of  the  most  active 
and  skillful  part  of  its  population.  All  temporal  interests, 
however,  were  held  light  in  comparison  with  the  purgation 
of  the  land  from  heresy ;  and  such  augmentations  as  the 
revenue  did  receive,  we  are  assured,  were  conscientiously 
devoted  to  pious  purposes  and  the  Moorish  war ! 

The  Roman  see,  during  all  this  time,  conducting  itself 
with  its  usual  duplicity,  contrived  to  make  a  gainful  traffic 
by  the  sale  of  dispensations  from  the  penalties  incurred  by 
such  as  fell  under  the  ban  of  the  Inquisition,  provided  they 
were  rich  enough  to  pay  for  them,  and  afterwards  revoking 
them,  at  the  instance  of  the  Castilian  court.  Meanwhile, 
the  odium,  excited  by  the  unsparing  rigor  of  Torquemada, 
raised  up  so  many  accusations  against  him  that  he  was  thrice 
compelled  to  send  an  agent  to  Rome  to  defend  his  cause 
before  the  pontiff,  until,  at  length,  Alexander  VI,  in  1494, 
moved  by  these  reiterated  complaints,  appointed  four  coad- 
jutors, out  of  a  pretended  regard  to  the  infirmities  of  his 
age,  to  share  with  him  the  burdens  of  his  office. 


Protestantism  in  Spain. 

Prescott's  Philip  the  Second. 

This  is  the  last  of  Prescott's  historical  works.  He  did  not 
live  to  complete  it.  But  in  none  do  the  celebrated  author's 
powers  show  forth  with  more  brilliancy  than  in  this  History  of 
Philip  the  Second.  It  had  justly  been  styled,  "A  monument  of 
thorough  study  and  research,  of  tolerant  and  dispassionate  judg- 
ment, and  a  model  of  skill  in  narration." 

Prescott's  noble  soul  was  filled  with  a  sad  indignation  as 
he  depicted  the  fearful  cruelty  and  the  inhuman,  fiendish  de- 
light with  which  the  Roman  Catholic  Church  persecuted,  tor- 
tured, and  put  to  death  men,  women,  and  even  children  whose 
only  offense  was  that  they  had  read  the  Bible,  and  had  learned 
to  know  that  Savior  aright  of  whom  that  church  had  displayed 
to  them  a  frightful  caricature  only.  And  who  could  read  these 
narratives  of  pious  sufferers  without  being  filled  with  an  utter 
contempt  for  the  religious  claims  of  men  who  boasted  of  being 


PROTESTANTISM    IN    SPAIN.  171 

the  servants  of  God,  but  who  so  conducted  themselves  that  we 
feel  constrained  to  believe  them  to  have  been  the  instruments 
of  fiends. 

Philip  had  not  been  many  days  in  Valladolid  when  his 
presence  was  celebrated  by  one  of  those  exhibitions  which, 
unhappily  for  Spain,  may  be  called  national.  This  was  an 
auto  de  fe,  not,  however,  as  formerly,  of  Jews  and  Moors,  but 
of  Spanish  Protestants.  The  Reformation  had  been  silently, 
but  not  slowly,  advancing  in  the  Peninsula;  and  intelligence 
of  this,  as  we  have  already  seen,  was  one  cause  of  Philip's 
abrupt  departure  from  the  Netherlands.  The  brief  but  dis- 
astrous attempt  at  a  religious  revolution  in  Spain  is  an  event 
of  too  much  importance  to  be  passed  over  in  silence  by  the 
historian. 

Notwithstanding  the  remote  position  of  Spain,  under  the 
imperial  scepter  of  Charles  she  was  brought  too  closely  into 
contact  with  the  other  states  of  Europe  not  to  feel  the  shock 
of  the  great  religious  reform  which  was  shaking  those  states 
to  their  foundations.  Her  most  intimate  relations,  indeed, 
were  with  those  very  countries  in  which  the  seeds  of  the 
Reformation  were  first  planted.  It  was  no.  uncommon  thing 
for  Spaniards,  in  the  sixteenth  century,  to  be  indebted  for 
some  portion  of  their  instruction  to  German  universities. 
Men  of  learning,  who  accompanied  the  emperor,  became  fa- 
miliar with  the  religious  doctrines  so  widely  circulated  in 
Germany  and  Flanders.  The  troops  gathered  the  same  doc- 
trines from  the  Lutheran  soldiers  who  occasionally  served 
with  them  under  the  imperial  banners.  These  opinions,  crude 
for  the  most  part  as  they  were,  they  brought  back  to  their 
own  country;  and  a  curiosity  was  roused  which  prepared 
the  mind  for  the  reception  of  the  great  truths  which  were 
quickening  the  other  nations  of  Europe.  Men  of  higher 
education,  on  their  return  to  Spain,  found  the  means  of  dis- 
seminating these  truths.  Secret  societies  were  established ; 
meetings  were  held;  and,  with  the  same  secrecy  as  in  the 
days  of  the  early  Christians,  the  Gospel  was  preached  and 
explained  to  the  growing  congregation  of  the  faithful.  The 
greatest  difficulty  was  the  want  of  books.  The  enterprise  of 
a  few  self-devoted  proselytes  at  length  overcame  this  diffi- 
culty. 

A   Castilian  version  of  the   Bible  had  been  printed   in 


172  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

Germany.  Various  Protestant  publications,  whether  origi- 
nating in  the  Castilian  or  translated  into  that  language,  ap- 
peared in  the  same  country.  A  copy  now  and  then,  in  the 
possession  of  some  private  individual,  had  found  its  way, 
without  detection,  across  the  Pyrenees.  These  instances 
were  rare,  when  a  Spaniard  named  Juan  Hernandez,  resident 
in  Geneva,  where  he  followed  the  business  of  a  corrector  of 
the  press,  undertook,  from  no  other  motive  but  zeal  for  the 
truth,  to  introduce  a  larger  supply  of  the  forbidden  fruit  into 
his  native  land. 

With  great  adroitness,  he  evaded  the  vigilance  of  the 
custom-house  officers  and  the  more  vigilant  spies  of  the  In- 
quisition, and  in  the  end  succeeded  in  landing  two  large  casks 
filled  with  prohibited  works,  which  were  quickly  distributed 
among  the  members  of  the  infant  church.  Other  intrepid 
converts  followed  the  example  of  Hernandez,  and  with  simi- 
lar success,  so  that,  with  the  aid  of  books  and  spiritual 
teachers,  the  number  of  the  faithful  multiplied  daily  through- 
out the  country.  Among  this  number  was  a  much  larger 
proportion,  it  was  observed,  of  persons  of  rank  and  education 
than  is  usually  found  in  like  cases,  owing  doubtless  to  the 
circumstance  that  it  was  this  class  of  persons  who  had  most 
frequented  the  countries  where  the  Lutheran  doctrines  were 
taught.  Thus  the  Reformed  Church  grew  and  prospered, 
not  indeed  as  it  had  prospered  in  the  freer  atmospheres  of 
Germany  and  Britain,  but  as  well  as  it  could  possibly  do 
under  the  blighting  influence  of  the  Inquisition,  like  some 
tender  plant,  which,  nurtured  in  the  shade,  waits  only  for 
a  more  genial  season  for  its  full  expansion.  That  season  was 
not  in  reserve  for  it  in  Spain. 

It  may  seem  strange  that  the  spread  of  the  Reformed  re- 
ligion should  so  long  have  escaped  the  detection  of  the  agents 
of  the  Holy  Office.  Yet  it  is  certain  that  the  first  notice 
which  the  Spanish  inquisitors  received  of  the  fact  was  from 
their  brethren  abroad.  Some  ecclesiastics  in  the  train  of 
Philip,  suspecting  the  heresy  of  several  of  their  own  country- 
men in  the  Netherlands,  had  them  seized  and  sent  to  Spain 
to  be  examined  by  the  Inquisition.  On  a  closer  investigation, 
it  was  found  that  a  correspondence  had  long  been  maintained 
between  these  persons  and  their  countrymen,  of  a  similar 


PROTESTANTISM    IN    SPAIN.  173 

persuasion  with  themselves,  at  home.  Thus  the  existence, 
though  not  the  extent,  of  the  Spanish  Reformation  was 
made  known. 

No  sooner  was  the  alarm  sounded  than  Paul  IV,  quick 
to  follow  up  the  scent  of  heresy  in  any  quarter  of  his  pontif- 
ical dominions,  issued  a  brief,  in  February,  1558,  addressed 
to  the  Spanish  inquisitor-general.  In  this  brief,  his  Holiness 
enjoins  it  on  the  head  of  the  tribunal  to  spare  no  efforts  to 
detect  and  exterminate  the  growing  evil;  and  he  empowers 
that  functionary  to  arraign  and  bring  to  condign  punishment 
all  suspected  of  heresy,  of  whatever  rank  or  profession, — 
whether  bishops,  or  archbishops,  nobles,  kings,  or  emperors. 
Paul  IV  was  fond  of  contemplating  himself  as  seated  in  the 
chair  of  the  Innocents  and  the  Gregories,  and  like  them 
setting  his  pontifical  foot  on  the  necks  of  princes.  His 
natural  arrogance  was  probably  not  diminished  by  the  con- 
cessions which  Philip  II  had  thought  proper  to  make  to  him 
at  the  close  of  the  Roman  war. 

Philip,  far  from  taking  umbrage  at  the  swelling  tone  of 
this  apostolic  mandate,  followed  it  up,  in  the  same  year,  by  a 
monstrous  edict,  borrowed  from  one  in  the  Netherlands, 
which  condemned  all  who  bought,  sold,  or  read  prohibited 
works  to  be  burned  alive. 

In  the  following  January,  Paul,  to  give  greater  efficacy  to 
this  edict,  published  another  bull,  in  which  he  commanded 
all  confessors,  under  pain  of  excommunication,  to  enjoin  on 
their  penitents  to  inform  against  all  persons,  however  nearly 
allied  to  them,  who  might  be  guilty  of  such  practices.  To 
quicken  the  zeal  of  the  informer,  Philip,  on  his  part,  revived 
a  law  fallen  somewhat  into  disuse,  by  which  the  accuser  was 
to  receive  one  fourth  of  the  confiscated  property  of  the  con- 
victed party.  And,  finally,  a  third  bull  from  Paul  allowed 
the  inquisitors  to  withhold  a  pardon  from  the  recanting 
heretic  if  any  doubt  existed  of  his  sincerity,  thus  placing  the 
life  as  well  as  fortune  of  the  unhappy  prisoner  entirely  at 
the  mercy  of  judges  who  had  an  obvious  interest  in  finding 
him  guilty.  In  this  way  the  pope  and  the  king  continued 
to  play  into  each  other's  hands,  and  while  his  Holiness  art- 
fully spread  the  toils,  the  king  devised  the  means  for  driving 
the  quarry  into  them. 

Fortunately  for  these  plans,  the  Inquisition  was  at  this 


174  THE   VOICE  OF    HISTORY. 

time  under  the  direction  of  a  man  peculiarly  fitted  to  execute 
them.  This  was  Fernando  Valdes,  cardinal-archbishop  of  Se- 
ville, a  person  of  a  hard,  inexorable  nature,  and  possessed  of 
as  large  a  measure  of  fanaticism  as  ever  fell  to  a  grand  in- 
quisitor since  the  days  of  Torquemada.  Valdes  readily  availed 
himself  of  the  terrible  machinery  placed  under  his  control. 
Careful  not  to  alarm  the  suspected  parties,  his  approaches 
were  slow  and  stealthy.  He  was  the  chief  of  a  tribunal 
which  sat  in  darkness  and  which  dealt  by  invisible  agents. 
He  worked  long  and  silently  under  ground  before  firing  the 
mine  which  was  to  bury  his  enemies  in  a  general  ruin. 

His  spies  were  everywhere  abroad,  mingling  with  the  sus- 
pected and  insinuating  themselves  into  their  confidence.  At 
length,  by  the  treachery  of  some,  and  by  working  on  the 
nervous  apprehensions  or  the  religious  scruples  of  others,  he 
succeeded  in  detecting  the  lurking-places  of  the  new  heresy 
and  the  extent  of  ground  which  it  covered.  This  was  much 
larger  than  had  been  imagined,  although  the  Reformation  in 
Spain  seemed  less  formidable  from  the  number  of  its  prose- 
lytes than  from  their  character  and  position.  Many  of  them 
were  ecclesiastics,  especially  intrusted  with  maintaining  the 
purity  of  the  faith.  The  quarters  in  which  the  heretical 
doctrines  most  prevailed  were  Aragon,  which  held  an  easy 
communication  with  the  Huguenots  of  France,  and  the 
ancient  cities  of  Seville  and  Valladolid,  indebted  less  to  any 
local  advantages  than  to  the  influence  of  a  few  eminent  men 
who  had  early  embraced  the  faith  of  the  Reformers. 

At  length,  the  preliminary  information  having  been  ob- 
tained, the  proscribed  having  been  marked  out,  the  plan  of 
attack  settled,  an  order  was  given  for  the  simultaneous  arrest 
of  all  persons  suspected  of  heresy,  throughout  the  kingdom. 
It  fell  like  a  thunderbolt  on  the  unhappy  victims,  who  had 
gone  on  with  their  secret  associations,  little  suspecting  the 
ruin  that  hung  over  them.  No  resistance  was  attempted. 
Men  and  women,  churchmen  and  laymen,  persons  of  all  ranks 
and  professions,  were  hurried  from  their  homes  and  lodged 
in  the  secret  chambers  of  the  Inquisition.  Yet  these  could 
not  furnish  accommodations  for  the  number,  and  many  were 
removed  to  the  ordinary  prisons,  and  even  to  convents  and 
private  dwellings.  In  Seville  alone  eight  hundred  were  ar- 
rested on  the  first  day.  Fears  were  entertained  of  an  at- 


PROTESTANTISM    IN    SPAIN.  175 

tempt  at  rescue,  and  an  additional  guard  was  stationed  over 
the  places  of  confinement.  The  inquisitors  were  in  the  con- 
dition of  a  fisherman  whose  cast  has  been  so  successful  that 
the  draught  of  fishes  seems  likely  to  prove  too  heavy  for 
his  net. 

The  arrest  of  one  party  gradually  led  to  the  detection  of 
others.  Dragged  from  his  solitary  dungeon  before  the 
secret  tribunal  of  the  Inquisition,  alone,  without  counsel  to 
aid  or  one  friendly  face  to  cheer  him,  without  knowing  the 
name  of  his  accuser,  without  being  allowed  to  confront  the 
witnesses  who  were  there  to  swear  away  his  life,  without 
even  a  sight  of  his  own  process,  except  such  garbled  ex- 
tracts as  the  wily  judges  thought  fit  to  communicate,  is  it 
strange  that  the  unhappy  victim,  in  his  perplexity  and  dis- 
tress, should  have  been  drawn  into  disclosures  fatal  to  his 
associates  and  himself?  If  these  disclosures  were  not  to 
the  mind  of  his  judges,  they  had  only  to  try  the  efficacy  of 
the  torture, — the  rack,  the  cord,  and  the  pulley, — until,  when 
every  joint  had  been  wrenched  from  its  socket,  the  barbarous 
tribunal  was  compelled  to  suspend,  not  terminate,  the  appli- 
cation, from  the  inability  of  the  sufferer  to  endure  it.  Such 
were  the  dismal  scenes  enacted  in  the  name  of  religion,  and 
by  the  ministers  of  religion,  as  well  as  of  the  Inquisition, — 
scenes  to  which  few  of  those  who  had  once  witnessed  them, 
and  escaped  with  life,  dared  ever  to  allude.  For  to  reveal 
the  secrets  of  the  Inquisition  was  death. 

At  the  expiration  of  eighteen  months  from  the  period  of 
the  first  arrests,  many  of  the  trials  had  been  concluded,  the 
doom  of  the  prisoners  was  sealed,  and  it  was  thought  time 
that  the  prisoners  should  disgorge  their  superfluous  inmates. 
Valladolid  was  selected  as  the  theater  of  the  first  auto  de  fe, 
both  from  the  importance  of  the  capital  and  the  presence  of 
the  court,  which  would  thus  sanction  and  give  greater  dig- 
nity to  the  celebration.  This  event  took  place  in  May,  1559. 
The  Regent  Joanna,  the  young  prince  of  Asturias,  Don  Car- 
los, and  the  principal  grandees  of  the  court,  were  there  to 
witness  the  spectacle.  By  rendering  the  heir  of  the  crown 
thus  early  familiar  with  the  tender  mercies  of  the  Holy  Office, 
it  may  have  been  intended  to  conciliate  his  favor  to  that  in- 
stitution. If  such  was  the  object,  according  to  the  report  it 


176  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

signally  failed,  since  the  woeful  spectacle  left  no  other  im- 
pressions on  the  mind  of  the  prince  than  those  of  indignation 
and  disgust. 

The  example  of  Valladolid  was  soon  followed  by  autos 
de  fe  in  Granada,  Toledo,  Seville,  Barcelona, — in  short,  in 
the  twelve  capitals  in  which  tribunals  of  the  Holy  Office  were 
established.  A  second  celebration  at  Valladolid  was  reserved 
for  the  eighth  of  October  in  the  same  year,  when  it  would 
be  graced  by  the  presence  of  the  sovereign  himself.  Indeed, 
as  several  of  the  processes  had  been  concluded  some  months 
before  this  period,  there  is  reason  to  believe  that  the  sacri- 
fice of  more  than  one  of  the  victims  had  been  postponed  in 
order  to  give  greater  effect  to  the  spectacle. 

The  auto  de  fe — "  act  of  faith  " — was  the  most  imposing, 
as  it  was  the  most  awful,  of  the  solemnities  authorized  by 
the  Roman  Catholic  Church.  It  was  intended,  somewhat 
profanely,  as  has  been  intimated,  to  combine  the  pomp  of 
the  Roman  triumph  with  the  terrors  of  the  Day  of  Judgment. 
It  may  remind  one  quite  as  much  of  those  bloody  festivals 
prepared  for  the  entertainment  of  the  Caesars  in  the  Coliseum. 
The  religious  import  of  the  auto  de  fe  was  intimated  by  the 
circumstance  of  its  being  celebrated  on  a  Sunday,  or  some 
other  holiday  of  the  Church.  An  indulgence  for  forty  days 
was  granted  by  his  Holiness  to  all  who  should  be  present  at 
the  spectacle,  as  if  the  appetite  for  witnessing  the  scenes  of 
human  suffering  required  to  be  stimulated  by  a  bounty, — 
that,  too,  in  Spain,  where  the  amusements  were,  and  still  are, 
of  the  most  sanguinary  character. 

The  scene  for  this  second  auto  de  fe  at  Valladolid  was 
the  great  square  in  front  of  the  church  of  St.  Francis.  At 
one  end  a  platform  was  raised,  covered  with  rich  carpeting, 
on  which  were  ranged  the  seats  of  the  inquisitors,  emblazoned 
with  the  arms  of  the  Holy  Office.  Near  to  this  was  the 
royal  gallery,  a  private  entrance  to  which  secured  the  in- 
mates from  molestation  by  the  crowd.  Opposite  to  this  gal- 
lery a  large  scaffold  was  erected,  so  as  to  be  visible  from 
all  parts  of  the  arena,  and  was  appropriated  to  the  unhappy 
martyrs  who  were  to  suffer  in  the  auto. 

At  six  in  the  morning  all  the  bells  in  the  capital  began 
to  toll,  and  a  solemn  procession  was  seen  to  move  from  the 
dismal  fortress  of  the  Inquisition.  In  the  van  marched  a 


PROTESTANTISM    IN    SPAIN.  177 

body  of  troops,  to  secure  a  free  passage  for  the  procession. 
Then  came  the  condemned,  each  attended  by  two  familiars 
of  the  Holy  Office,  and  those  who  were  to  suffer  at  the  stake 
by  two  friars,  in  addition,  exhorting  the  heretic  to  abjure 
his  errors.  Those  admitted  to  penitence  wore  a  sable  dress, 
while  the  unfortunate  martyr  was  enveloped  in  a  loose  sack 
of  yellow  cloth, — the  son  benito, — with  his  head  surmounted 
by  a  cap  of  pasteboard  of  a  conical  form,  which,  together 
with  the  cloak,  was  embroidered  with  figures  of  flames  and 
of  devils  fanning  and  feeding  them,  all  emblematical  of  the 
destiny  of  the  heretic's  soul  in  the  world  to  come,  as  well  as 
of  his  body  in  the  present.  Then  came  the  magistrates  of 
the  city,  the  judges  of  the  courts,  the  ecclesiastical  orders, 
and  the  nobles  of  the  land,  on  horseback.  These  were  fol- 
lowed by  the  members  of  the  dread  tribunal,  and  the  fiscal, 
bearing  a  standard  of  crimson  damask,  on  one  side  of  which 
were  displayed  the  arms  of  the  Inquisition,  and  on  the  other 
the  insignia  of  its  founders,  Sixtus  the  Fifth  and  Ferdi- 
nand the  Catholic.  Next  came  a  numerous  train  of  familiars, 
well  mounted,  among  whom  were  many  of  the  gentry  of  the 
province,  proud  to  act  as  the  body-guard  of  the  Holy  Office. 
The  rear  was  brought  up  by  an  immense  concourse  of  the 
common  people,  stimulated  on  the  present  occasion,  no  doubt, 
by  the  loyal  desire  to  see  their  new  sovereign,  as  well  as  by 
the  ambition  to  share  in  the  triumphs  of  the  auto  de  fe.  The 
number  thus  drawn  together  from  the  capital  and  the  coun- 
try, far  exceeding  what  was  usual  on  such  occasions,  is  esti- 
mated by  one  present  at  full  two  hundred  thousand. 

As  the  multitude  defiled  into  the  square,  the  inquisitors 
took  their  place  on  the  seats  prepared  for  their  reception. 
The  condemned  were  conducted  to  the  scaffold,  and  the  royal 
station  was  occupied  by  Philip,  with  the  different  members 
of  his  household.  At  his  side  sat  his  sister,  the  late  regent, 
his  son,  Don  Carlos,  his  nephew,  Alexander  Farnese,  sev- 
eral foreign  ambassadors,  and  the  principal  grandees  and 
higher  ecclesiastics  in  attendance  on  the  court.  It  was  an 
august  assembly  of  the  greatest  and  the  proudest  in  the  land. 
But  the  most  indifferent  spectator  who  had  a  spark  of  hu- 
manity in  his  bosom  might  have  turned  with  feelings  of 
admiration  from  this  array  of  worldly  power  to  the  poor 
martyr,  who,  with  no  support  but  what  he  drew  from  within, 
12 


178  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

was  prepared  to  defy  this  power  and  to  lay  down  his  life  in 
vindication  of  the  rights  of  conscience.  Some  there  may 
have  been,  in  that  large  concourse,  who  shared  in  these  sen- 
timents. But  their  number  was  small  indeed  in  comparison 
with  those  who  looked  on  the  wretched  victim  as  the  enemy 
of  God,  and  his  approaching  sacrifice  as  the  most  glorious 
triumph  of  the  Cross. 

The  ceremonies  began  with  a  sermon,  "  the  sermon  of 
the  faith,"  by  the  bishop  of  Zamora.  The  subject  of  it  may 
well  be  guessed,  from  the  occasion.  It  was  no  doubt  plenti- 
fully larded  with  texts  of  Scripture,  and,  unless  the  preacher 
departed  from  the  fashion  of  the  time,  with  passages  from 
the  heathen  writers,  however  much  out  of  place  they  may 
seem  in  an  orthodox  discourse. 

When  the  bishop  had  concluded,  the  grand  inquisitor 
administered  an  oath  to  the  assembled  multitude,  who  on 
their  knees  solemnly  swore  to  defend  the  Inquisition,  to 
maintain  the  purity  of  the  faith,  and  to  inform  against  any 
one  who  should  swerve  from  it.  As  Philip  repeated  an  oath 
of  similar  import,  he  suited  the  action  to  the  word,  and, 
rising  from  his  seat,  drew  his  sword  from  its  scabbard,  as 
if  to  announce  himself  the  determined  champion  of  the  Holy 
Office.  In  the  earlier  autos  of  the  Moorish  and  Jewish 
infidels  so  humiliating  an  oath  had  never  been  exacted  from 
the  sovereign. 

After  this,  the  secretary  of  the  tribunal  read  aloud  an 
instrument  reciting  the  grounds  for  the  conviction  of  the 
prisoners,  and  the  respective  sentences  pronounced  against 
them.  Those  who  were  to  be  admitted  to  penitence,  each,  as 
his  sentence  was  proclaimed,  knelt  down,  and,  with  his  hands 
on  the  missal,  solemnly  abjured  his  errors,  and  was  absolved 
by  the  grand  inquisitor.  The  absolution,  however,  was  not 
so  entire  as  to  relieve  the  offender  from  the  penalty  of  his 
transgressions  in  this  world.  Some  were  doomed  to  per- 
petual imprisonment  in  the  cells  of  the  Inquisition,  others  to 
lighter  penances.  All  were  doomed  to  the  confiscation  of 
their  property, — a  point  of  too  great  moment  to  the  welfare 
of  the  tribunal  ever  to  be  omitted.  Besides  this,  in  many  cases 
the  offender,  and,  by  a  glaring  perversion  of  justice,  his  im- 
mediate descendants,  were  rendered  forever  ineligible  to 
public  office  of  any  kind,  and  their  names  branded  with  per- 


PROTESTANTISM    IN    SPAIN.  179 

petual  infamy.  Thus  blighted  in  fortune  and  in  character, 
they  were  said,  in  the  soft  language  of  the  Inquisition,  to 
be  reconciled. 

As  these  unfortunate  persons  were  remanded,  under  a 
strong  guard,  to  their  prisons,  all  eyes  were  turned  on  the 
little  company  of  martyrs,  who,  clothed  in  the  ignominious 
garb  of  the  son  benito,  stood  awaiting  the  sentence  of  their 
judges,  with  cords  round  their  necks,  and  in  their  hands  a 
cross,  or  sometimes  an  inverted  torch,  typical  of  their  own 
speedy  dissolution.  The  interest  of  the  spectators  was  still 
further  excited,  in  the  present  instance,  by  the  fact  that 
several  of  these  victims  were  not  only  illustrious  for  their 
rank,  but  yet  more  so  for  their  talents  and  virtues.  In  their 
haggard  looks,  their  emaciated  forms,  and  too  often,  alas! 
their  distorted  limbs,  it  was  easy  to  read  the  story  of  their 
sufferings  in  their  long  imprisonment,  for  some  of  them  had 
been  confined  in  the  dark  cells  of  the  Inquisition  much  more 
than  a  year.  Yet  their  countenances,  though  haggard,  far 
from  showing  any  sign  of  weakness  or  fear,  were  lighted  up 
with  the  glow  of  holy  enthusiasm,  as  of  men  prepared  to 
seal  their  testimony  with  their  blood. 

When  that  part  of  the  process  showing  the  grounds  of 
their  conviction  had  been  read,  the  grand  inquisitor  consigned 
them  to  the  hands  of  the  corregidor  of  the  city,  beseeching 
him  to  deal  with  the  prisoners  in  all  kindness  and  mercy,  a 
honeyed  but  most  hypocritical  phrase,  since  no  choice  was 
left  to  the  civil  magistrate  but  to  execute  the  terrible  sen- 
tence of  the  law  against  heretics,  the  preparations  for  which 
had  been  made  by  him  a  week  before. 

The  whole  number  of  convicts  amounted  to  thirty,  of 
whom  sixteen  were  reconciled,  and  the  remainder  relaxed 
to  the  secular  arm, — in  other  words,  turned  over  to  the  civil 
magistrate  for  execution.  There  were  few  of  those  thus  con- 
demned who,  when  brought  to  the  stake,  did  not  so  far 
shrink  from  the  dreadful  doom  that  awaited  them  as  to  con- 
sent to  purchase  a  commutation  of  it  by  confession  before 
they  died,  in  which  case  they  were  strangled  by  the  garrote 
before  their  bodies  were  thrown  into  the  flames. 

Of  the  present  number  there  were  only  two  whose  con- 
stancy triumphed  to  the  last  over  the  dread  of  suffering,  and 
who  refused  to  purchase  any  mitigation  of  it  by  a  compromise 


180  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

with  conscience.  The  names  of  these  martyrs  should  be  en- 
graven on  the  record  of  history. 

One  of  them  was  Don  Carlos  de  Seso,  a  noble  Florentine, 
who  had  stood  high  in  the  favor  of  Charles  the  Fifth.  Being 
united  with  a  lady  of  rank  in  Castile,  he  removed  to  that 
country  and  took  up  his  residence  in  Valladolid.  He  had 
become  a  convert  to  the  Lutheran  doctrines,  which  he  first 
communicated  to  his  own  family,  and  afterwards  showed 
equal  zeal  in  propagating  among  the  people  of  Valladolid 
and  its  neighborhood.  In  short,  there  was  no  man  to  whose 
untiring  and  intrepid  labors  the  cause  of  the  Reformed  re- 
ligion in  Spain  was  more  indebted.  He  was,  of  course,  a 
conspicuous  mark  for  the  Inquisition. 

During  the  fifteen  months  in  which  he  lay  in  its  gloomy 
cells,  cut  off  from  human  sympathy  and  support,  his  con- 
stancy remained  unshaken.  The  night  preceding  his  exe- 
cution, when  his  sentence  had  been  announced  to  him,  De 
Seso  called  for  writing-materials.  It  was  thought  he  designed 
to  propitiate  his  judges  by  a  full  confession  of  his  errors. 
But  the  confession  he  made  was  of  another  kind.  He  insisted 
on  the  errors  of  the  Romish  Church,  and  avowed  his  unshaken 
trust  in  the  great  truths  of  the  Reformation.  The  document, 
covering  two  sheets  of  paper,  is  pronounced  by  the  secretary 
of  the  Inquisition  to  be  a  composition  equally  remarkable  for 
its  energy  and  precision.  When  led  before  the  royal  gallery, 
on  his  way  to  the  place  of  execution,  De  Seso  pathetically 
exclaimed  to  Philip,  "  Is  it  thus  that  you  allow  your  inno- 
cent subjects  to  be  persecuted?"  To  which  the  king  made 
the  memorable  reply,  "  If  it  were  my  own  son,  I  would  fetch 
the  wood  to  burn  him,  were  he  such  a  wretch  as  thou  art !  " 
It  was  certainly  a  characteristic  answer. 

At  the  stake  De  Seso  showed  the  same  unshaken  con- 
stancy, bearing  his  testimony  to  the  truth  of  the  great  cause 
for  which  he  gave  up  his  life.  As  the  flames  crept  slowly 
around  him,  he  called  on  the  soldiers  to  heap  up  the  fagots, 
that  his  agonies  might  be  sooner  ended ;  and  his  executioners, 
indignant  at  the  obstinacy — the  heroism — of  the  martyr, 
were  not  slow  in  obeying  his  commands. 

The  companion  and  fellow-sufferer  of  De  Seso  was  Do- 
mingo de  Roxas,  son  of  the  marquis  de  Poza,  an  unhappy 
noble,  who  had  seen  five  of  his  family,  including  his  eldest 


PROTESTANTISM    IN    SPAIN.  181 

son,  condemned  to  various  humiliating  penances  by  the  In- 
quisition for  their  heretical  opinions.  This  one  was  now  to 
suffer  death.  De  Roxas  was  a  Dominican  monk.  It  is  sin- 
gular that  this  order,  from  which  the  ministers  of  the  Holy 
Office  were  particularly  taken,  furnished  many  proselytes  to 
the  Reformed  religion.  De  Roxas,  as  was  the  usage  with 
ecclesiastics,  was  allowed  to  retain  his  sacerdotal  habit  until 
his  sentence  had  been  read,  when  he  was  degraded  from  his 
ecclesiastical  rank,  his  vestments  were  stripped  off  one  after 
another,  and  the  hideous  dress  of  the  son  benito  thrown  over 
him,  amid  the  shouts  and  derision  of  the  populace.  Thus  ap- 
pareled, he  made  an  attempt  to  address  the  spectators  around 
the  scaffold;  but  no  sooner  did  he  begin  to  raise  his  voice 
against  the  errors  and  cruelties  of  Rome  than  Philip  indig- 
nantly commanded  him  to  be  gagged.  The  gag  was  a  piece 
of  cleft  wood,  which,  forcibly  compressing  the  tongue,  had 
the  additional  advantage  of  causing  great  pain  while  it 
silenced  the  offender.  Even  when  he  was  bound  to  the  stake, 
the  gag,  though  contrary  to  custom,  was  suffered  to  remain 
in  the  mouth  of  De  Roxas,  as  if  his  enemies  dreaded  the  ef- 
fects of  an  eloquence  that  triumphed  over  the  anguish  of 
death. 

The  place  of  execution — the  quemadero,  the  burning  place, 
as  it  was  called — was  a  spot  selected  for  the  purpose  without 
the  walls  of  the  city.  Those  who  attended  an  auto  de  fe 
were  not,  therefore,  necessarily,  as  is  commonly  imagined, 
spectators  of  the  tragic  scene  that  concluded  it.  The  great 
body  of  the  people,  and  many  of  higher  rank,  no  doubt,  fol- 
lowed to  the  place  of  execution.  On  this  occasion  there  is 
reason  to  think,  from  the  language — somewhat  equivocal, 
it  is  true — of  Philip's  biographer,  that  the  monarch  chose  to 
testify  his  devotion  to  the  Inquisition  by  witnessing  in  person 
the  appalling  close  of  the  drama,  while  his  guards  mingled 
with  the  menials  of  the  Holy  Office  and  heaped  up  the  fagots 
round  their  victims. 

Such  was  the  cruel  exhibition  which,  under  the  garb  of  a 
religious  festival,  was  thought  the  most  fitting  ceremonial  for 
welcoming  the  Catholic  monarch  to  his  dominions !  During 
the  whole  time  of  its  duration  in  the  public  square,  from  six 
in  the  morning  till  two  in  the  afternoon,  no  symptom  of  im- 
patience was  exhibited  by  the  spectators,  and,  as  may  well 


182  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

be  believed,  no  sign  of  sympathy  for  the  sufferers.  It  would 
be  difficult  to  devise  a  better  school  for  perverting  the  moral 
sense  and  deadening  the  sensibilities  of  a  nation. 

Under  the  royal  sanction,  the  work  of  persecution  now 
went  forward  more  briskly  than  ever.  No  calling  was  too 
sacred,  no  rank  too  high,  to  escape  the  shafts  of  the  informer. 
In  the  course  of  a  few  years,  no  less  than  nine  bishops  were 
compelled  to  do  humiliating  penance  in  some  form  or  other 
for  heterodox  opinions.  But  the  most  illustrious  victim  of 
the  Inquisition  was  Bartolome  Carranza,  archbishop  of  To- 
ledo. The  primacy  of  Spain  might  be  considered  as  the 
post  of  the  highest  consideration  in  the  Roman  Catholic 
Church  after  the  papacy.  The  proceedings  against  this  prel- 
ate, on  the  whole,  excited  more  interest  throughout  Chris- 
tendom than  any  other  case  that  came  before  the  tribunal 
of  the  Inquisition. 

Carranza,  who  was  of  an  ancient  Castilian  family,  had 
early  entered  a  Dominican  convent  in  the  suburbs  of  Gua- 
dalajara. His  exemplary  life,  and  his  great  parts  and  learn- 
ing, recommended  him  to  the  favor  of  Charles  the  Fifth,  who 
appointed  him  confessor  to  his  son  Philip.  The  emperor 
also  sent  him  to  the  Council  of  Trent,  where  he  made  a  great 
impression  by  his  eloquence,  as  well  as  by  a  tract  which 
he  published  against  plurality  of  benefices,  which,  however, 
excited  no  little  disgust  in  many  of  his  order.  On  Philip's 
visit  to  England  to  marry  Queen  Mary,  Carranza  accom- 
panied his  master,  and  while  in  that  country,  he  distin- 
guished himself  by  the  zeal  and  ability  with  which  he  con- 
troverted the  doctrines  of  the  Protestants.  The  alacrity, 
moreover,  which  he  manifested  in  the  work  of  persecution 
made  him  generally  odious  under  the  name  of  the  "black 
friar," — a  name  peculiarly  appropriate,  as  it  applied  not  less 
to  his  swarthy  complexion  than  to  the  garb  of  his  order. 
On  Philip's  return  to  Flanders,  Carranza,  who  had  twice  re- 
fused a  miter,  was  raised — not  without  strong  disinclination 
on  his  own  part — to  the  archiepiscopal  see  of  Toledo.  The 
"  nalo  episcopari,"  in  this  instance,  seems  to  have  been  sin- 
cere. It  would  have  been  well  for  him  if  it  had  been  ef- 
fectual. Carranza's  elevation  to  the  primacy  was  the  source 
of  all  his  troubles. 

The  hatred   of  theologians   has  passed   into   a  proverb; 


PROTESTANTISM    IN    SPAIN.  183 

and  there  would  certainly  seem  to  be  no  rancor  surpassing 
that  of  a  Spanish  ecclesiastic.  Among  the  enemies  raised 
by  Carranza's  success,  the  most  implacable  was  the  grand 
inquisitor,  Valdes.  The  archbishop  of  Seville  could  ill  brook 
that  a  humble  Dominican  should  be  thus  raised  from  the 
cloister  over  the  heads  of  the  proud  prelacy  of  Spain.  With 
unwearied  pains,  such  as  hate  only  could  induce,  he  sought 
out  whatever  could  make  against  the  orthodoxy  of  the  new 
prelate,  whether  in  his  writings  or  his  conversation.  Some 
plausible  ground  was  afforded  for  this  from  the  fact  that, 
although  Carranza,  as  his  whole  life  had  shown,  was  de- 
voted to  the  Roman  Catholic  Church,  yet  his  long  residence 
in  Protestant  countries  and  his  familiarity  with  Protestant 
works  had  given  a  coloring  to  his  language,  if  not  to  his 
opinions,  which  resembled  that  of  the  Reformers.  Indeed, 
Carranza  seems  to  have  been  much  of  the  same  way  of  think- 
ing with  Pole,  Contarini,  Morone,  and  other  illustrious  Ro- 
manists, whose  liberal  natures  and  wide  range  of  study  had 
led  them  to  sanction  more  than  one  of  the  Lutheran  dogmas 
which  were  subsequently  proscribed  by  the  Council  of  Trent. 
One  charge  strongly  urged  against  the  primate  was  his  as- 
sent to  the  heretical  doctrine  of  justification  by  faith.  In 
support  of  this,  Father  Regla,  the  confessor,  as  the  reader 
may  remember,  of  Charles  the  Fifth,  and  a  worthy  coadjutor 
of  Valdes,  quoted  words  of  consolation  employed  by  Car- 
ranza, in  his  presence,  at  the  death-bed  of  the  emperor. 

The  exalted  rank  of  the  accused  made  it  necessary  for 
his  enemies  to  proceed  with  the  greatest  caution.  Never 
had  the  bloodhounds  of  the  Inquisition  been  set  on  so  noble 
a  quarry.  Confident  in  his  own  authority,  the  prelate  had 
little  reason  for  distrust.  He  could  not  ward  off  the  blow, 
for  it  was  in  an  invisible  arm  stronger  than  his  own  that 
was  raised  to  smite  him.  On  the  twenty-second  of  August, 
1559,  the  emissaries  of  the  Holy  Office  entered  the  primate's 
town  of  Torrelaguna.  The  doors  of  the  episcopal  palace  were 
thrown  open  to  the  ministers  of  the  terrible  tribunal.  The 
prelate  was  dragged  from  his  bed  at  midnight,  was  hurried 
into  a  coach,  and,  while  the  inhabitants  were  ordered  not  so 
much  as  to  present  themselves  at  the  windows,  he  was  con- 
ducted, under  a  strong  guard,  to  the  prisons  of  the  Inqui- 
sition at  Valladolid.  The  arrest  of  such  a  person  caused  a 


184  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

great  sensation  throughout  the  country,  but  no  attempt  was 
made  at  a  rescue. 

The  primate  would  have  appealed  from  the  Holy  Office  to 
the  pope,  as  the  only  power  competent  to  judge  him.  But  he 
was  unwilling  to  give  umbrage  to  Philip,  who  had  told  him 
in  any  extremity  to  rely  on  him.  The  king,  however,  was 
still  in  the  Netherlands,  where  his  mind  had  been  preoccu- 
pied, through  the  archbishop's  enemies,  with  rumors  of  his 
defection.  And  the  mere  imputation  of  heresy,  in  this  dan- 
gerous crisis,  and  especially  in  one  whom  he  had  so  re- 
cently raised  to  the  highest  post  in  the  Spanish  Church,  was 
enough  not  only  to  efface  the  recollection  of  past  services 
from  the  mind  of  Philip,  but  to  turn  his  favor  into  aversion. 
For  two  years  Carranza  was  suffered  to  languish  in  confine- 
ment, exposed  to  all  the  annoyances  which  the  malice  of  his 
enemies  could  devise.  So  completely  was  he  dead  to  the 
world  that  he  knew  nothing  of  a  conflagration  which  con- 
sumed more  than  four  hundred  of  the  principal  houses  in 
Valladolid,  till  some  years  after  the  occurrence. 

At  length  the  Council  of  Trent,  sharing  the  indignation 
of  the  rest  of  Christendom  at  the  archbishop's  protracted 
imprisonment,  called  on  Philip  to  interpose  in  his  behalf 
and  to  remove  the  cause  to  another  tribunal.  But  the  king 
gave  little  heed  to  the  remonstrance,  which  the  inquisitors 
treated  as  a  presumptuous  interference  with  their  authority. 

In  1566,  Pius  the  Fifth  ascended  the  pontifical  throne. 
He  was  a  man  of  austere  morals  and  a  most  inflexible  will. 
A  Dominican,  like  Carranza,  he  was  greatly  scandalized  by 
the  treatment  which  the  primate  had  received,  and  by  the 
shameful  length  to  which  his  process  had  been  protracted. 
He  at  once  sent  his  orders  to  Spain  for  the  removal  of  the 
grand  inquisitor,  Valdes,  from  office,  summoning,  at  the  same 
time,  the  cause  and  the  prisoner  before  his  own  tribunal. 
The  bold  inquisitor,  loath  to  lose  his  prey,  would  have  defied 
the  power  of  Rome  as  he  had  done  that  of  the  Council  of 
Trent.  Philip  remonstrated;  but  Pius  was  firm,  and  men- 
aced both  king  and  inquisitor  with  excommunication.  Philip 
had  no  mind  for  a  second  collision  with  the  papal  court. 
In  imagination  he  already  heard  the  thunders  of  the  Vatican 
rolling  in  the  distance  and  threatening  soon  to  break  upon  his 
head.  After  a  confinement  of  now  more  than  seven  years' 


PROTESTANTISM    IN    SPAIN.  185 

duration,  the  archbishop  was  sent  under  a  guard  to  Rome. 
He  was  kindly  received  by  the  pontiff,  and  honorably  lodged 
in  the  castle  of  St.  Angelo,  in  apartments  formerly  occupied 
by  the  popes  themselves.  But  he  was  still  a  prisoner. 

Pius  now  set  seriously  about  the  examination  of  Car- 
ranza's  process.  It  was  a  tedious  business,  requiring  his 
Holiness  to  wade  through  an  ocean  of  papers,  while  the  prog- 
ress of  the  suit  was  perpetually  impeded  by  embarrassments 
thrown  in  his  way  by  the  industrious  malice  of  the  inquisi- 
tors. At  the  end  of  six  years  more,  Pius  was  preparing 
to  give  his  judgment,  which  it  was  understood  would  be 
favorable  to  Carranza,  when,  unhappily  for  the  primate,  the 
pontiff  died. 

The  Holy  Office,  stung  by  the  prospect  of  its  failure,  now 
strained  every  nerve  to  influence  the  mind  of  the  new  pope, 
Gregory  the  Thirteenth,  to  a  contrary  decision.  New  tes- 
timony was  collected,  new  glosses  were  put  on  the  primate's 
text,  and  the  sanction  of  the  most  learned  Spanish  theologians 
was  brought  in  support  of  them.  At  length,  at  the  end  of 
three  years  further,  the  Holy  Father  announced  his  purpose 
of  giving  his  final  decision.  It  was  done  with  great  circum- 
stance. The  pope  was  seated  on  his  pontifical  throne,  sur- 
rounded by  all  his  cardinals,  prelates,  and  functionaries  of 
the  apostolic  chamber.  Before  this  august  assembly  the  arch- 
bishop presented  himself  unsupported  and  alone,  while  no  one 
ventured  to  salute  him.  His  head  was  bare.  His  once  robust 
form  was  bent  by  infirmity  more  than  by  years ;  and  his 
care-worn  features  told  of  that  sickness  which  arises  from 
hope  deferred.  He  knelt  down  at  some  distance  from  the 
pope,  and  in  this  humble  attitude  received  his  sentence. 

He  was  declared  to  have  imbibed  the  pernicious  doctrines 
of  Luther.  The  decree  of  the  Inquisition  prohibiting  the 
use  of  his  catechism  was  confirmed.  He  was  to  abjure  six- 
teen propositions  found  in  his  writings ;  was  suspended  from 
the  exercise  of  his  episcopal  functions  for  five  years,  during 
which  time  he  was  to  be  confined  in  a  convent  of  his  order 
at  Orvieto ;  and,  finally,  he  was  required  to  visit  seven  of 
the  principal  churches  in  Rome  and  perform  mass  there  by 
way  of  penance. 

This  was  the  end  of  eighteen  years  of  doubt,  anxiety, 
and  imprisonment.  The  tears  streamed  down  the  face  of  the 


186  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

unhappy  man  as  he  listened  to  the  sentence;  but  he  bowed  in 
silent  submission  to  the  will  of  his  superior.  The  very  next 
day  he  began  his  work  of  penance.  But  nature  could  go  no 
further;  and  on  the  second  of  May,  only  sixteen  days  after 
his  sentence  had  been  pronounced,  Carranza  died  of  a  broken 
heart.  The  triumph  of  the  Inquisition  was  complete. 


Oliver  Cromwell. 

Von  Ranke's  History  of  England. 

Leopold  Von  Ranke  is  a  prince  among  historians.  Every- 
thing from  his  pen  ranks  among  the  best  that  the  world  has  in 
historical  literature.  His  clearness  of  judgment  and  his  fine 
discrimination,  combined  with  his  patience  in  original  research, 
and  his  amazing  power  of  application,  have  produced  works  which 
will  be  read  with  delight  and  admiration  as  long  as  men  have  a 
taste  for  genuine  and  truthful  representation  of  the  past. — The 
estimate  of  the  character  of  Cromwell  which  Von  Ranke  gives 
us  in  the  following  paragraphs  is  worthy  of  attentive  perusal,  and 
should  stimulate  interest  in  the  events  which  caused  Cromwell  to 
rise,  and  in  the  conditions  which  succeeded  his  dictatorship. 

Nothing  is  more  misleading  than  to  search  for  the  psy- 
chological causes  connected  with  the  death  of  great  men,  and 
to  attribute  to  them  a  decisive  influence.  One  of  Cromwell's 
confidential  attendants  ventures  to  assert  that  the  attempt 
to  carry  on  an  unparliamentary  government  had  exhausted 
his  vital  powers.  And  certain  it  is  that  the  failure  of  his 
plans  soured  and  disturbed  him.  In  his  own  family  circle, 
from  which  he  used  never  to  be  absent  at  breakfast  and 
dinner,  for  he  was  an  excellent  father,  he  was  latterly  never 
seen  for  weeks  together.  The  discovery  of  constantly  re- 
newed attempts  upon  his  life  filled  him  with  disquiet.  It  is 
said  that  he  took  opium,  which  could  not  fail  to  increase 
his  agitation.  To  this  was  added  the  illness  and  death  of 
his  favorite  daughter,  Lady  Claypole,  whose  last  ravings  were 
of  the  religious  and  political  controversies  which  harassed 
her  father — the  right  of  the  King,  the  blood  that  had  been 
shed,  the  revenge  to  come. 

The  Independent  ministers  again  found  access  to  him. 
When  his  growing  indisposition  was  succeeded  by  fever,  and 


' 


OLIVER    CROMWELL.  187 

assumed  a  dangerous  character,  they  still  assured  him  that 
he  would  yet  live,  for  God  had  need  of  him.  Meantime  he 
grew  worse  and  worse.  We  all  know  how  the  mental  feel- 
ings and  the  bodily  organs  react  upon  each  other.  Cromwell 
suffered  from  excessive  fullness  of  the  brain  and  an  internal 
corruption  of  the  bile.  He  attempted  to  check  the  disease  by 
a  panacea,  which  gave  him  some  relief,  and  brought  him 
back  from  Hampton  Court  to  Westminster,  to  the  palace 
of  the  old  kings  at  Whitehall.  There  he  died  immediately 
on  the  3d  of  September,  the  anniversary  of  his  victories  of 
Dunbar  and  Worcester,  which  had  gained  him  this  lodging. 
The  people  declared  that  he  was  snatched  away  amid  the 
tumult  of  a  fearful  storm,  a  proof  that  he  was  in  league  with 
Satanic  powers.  Others  saw  in  it  the  sympathy  of  nature 
with  the  death  of  the  first  man  in  the  world.  But  gales  and 
storms  follow  their  own  laws — in  reality,  the  storm  had 
raged  the  night  before.  It  was  not  till  the  afternoon  that 
Cromwell  died.  But  this  belief  was  not  confined  to  the  com- 
mon people.  The  next  general  execrated  Cromwell  as  a 
monster  of  wickedness,  while  posterity  has  pronounced  him 
one  of  the  greatest  of  the  human  race. 

To  him  was  granted  the  marvelous  distinction  of  breaking 
through  the  charmed  circle  which  among  the  European  na- 
tions hems  in  the  private  man.  Invested  with  sovereign 
authority,  and  needing  no  higher  sanction, — for  he  was  not 
compelled,  like  Richelieu,  to  convince  his  king  by  argument, 
or  to  cry  into  cabinet  intrigues, — he  forced  his  way  into  the 
history  of  the  world.  The  king,  who  reckoned  a  hundred 
ancestors  in  Scotland,  and  held  the  throne  of  England  by 
that  hereditary  right,  on  which  most  other  states  rested,  was 
overthrown  mainly  by  the  armed  force  which  he  created,  and 
was  then  succeeded  by  him. 

Yet  Cromwell  had  the  self-restraint  to  refuse  the  crown 
itself;  that  which  he  was,  the  general  of  the  victorious  army, 
invested  with  the  highest  civil  authority,  that  he  resolved  to 
remain. 

For  when  once  Parliament  had  stripped  the  monarchy 
of  the  military  authority,  the  army  displayed  a  tendency  to 
submit  no  longer  even  to  Parliament.  The  civil  authority 
became  dependent  upon  the  military.  Cromwell  took  it  in 
hand,  and  resolved  to  uphold  it  against  all  opposition. 


188  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

•  . 

Above  all,  he  was  forced  to  suppress  those  institutions  which 
were  most  nearly  allied  with  the  old  order  of  things.  The 
aristocracy  or  the  episcopacy  would  not  be  suffered  to  exist 
any  more  than  the  monarchy  itself.  Political  and  religious 
opposition^  to  all  these  elements  were  for  Cromwell  the  end 
of  his  existence.  In  this  he  discerned  the  welfare  of  the 
country,  the  advancement  of  religion  and  morality,  but  also 
his  own  justification,  if  in  promoting  his  own  cause  he  went 
so  far  as  to  resist  those  opponents  who  sprang  from  the  very 
heart  of  his  party.  He  deemed  it  essential  to  bring  all  the 
active  forces  in  the  country  into  obedience  to  his  will.  Thus 
it  was  that  he  established  a  power  which  has  no  parallel  and 
no  appropriate  name.  It  is  true  that  the  noble  sentiment 
which  flowed  from  his  lips  were  also  the  levers  of  his  power, 
and  he  did  not  allow  them  to  interfere  with  it;  but  no  less 
true  is  it  that  the  supreme  authority  in  itself  was  not  his 
aim.  It  was  to  aid  him  in  realizing  those  ideas  of  religious 
liberty,  and  of  civil  order  and  national  independence  which 
filled  his  whole  soul.  These  ideas  he  regarded  as  not  merely 
satisfactory  to  himself,  but  as  actually  and  objectively  nec- 
essary. Cromwell's  was  in  fact  a  nature  of  deep  impulses, 
restless  originality,  and  wide  comprehensiveness,  at  once 
slow  and  impatient,  trustworthy  and  faithless,  destructive 
and  conservative,  ever  pressing  on  to  the  untrodden  way  in 
front;  before  it  all  obstacles  must  give  way  or  be  crushed. 

If  we  ask  what  of  Cromwell's  work  survived  him,  we  shall 
not  find  the  answer  in  particular  institutions  of  the  state 
and  the  constitution.  We  are  never  certain  whether  he  con- 
templated the  continuance  of  the  power  which  he  possessed 
himself:  neither  his  House  of  Lords  nor  his  Commons  was 
destined  to  endure;  nor  yet  the  army  of  which  he  was  the 
founder,  nor  the  separatist  movements  with  which  he  started. 
Time  has  swept  all  this  away.  Yet  he  exercised,  nevertheless, 
an  influence  rich  in  important  results. 

We  have  seen  how  the  germs  of  the  great  struggle  are  to 
be  found  in  the  historical  and  natural  conditions  of  the  three 
countries  of  Britain,  and  we  have  traced  the  part  played  by 
the  republican  system  in  subjecting  to  England  the  two 
other  members  of  the  British  Commonwealth.  But  it  was 
Cromwell's  victories  which  made  this  possible.  His  rise  was 
associated  from  the  first  with  a  genuinely  English  theory, 


OLIVER   CROMWELL.  189 

opposed  equally  to  the  encroachments  of  the  Scots  and  to 
Irish  independence.  He  won  a  place  for  it  by  force  of  arms, 
and  then  first,  irregularly  enough  it  is  true,  admitted  the 
Irish  and  Scottish  representatives  into  the  English  Parlia- 
ment. We  can  scarcely  believe  that  a  parliamentary  gov- 
ernment of  the  three  kingdoms  was  possible  at  the  time. 
The  course  of  events  tended  rather  toward  a  military  mon- 
archy. It  is  Cromwell's  chief  merit  to  have  ruled  the 
British  kingdom  for  a  succession  of  years  on  a  uniform  prin- 
ciple, and  to  have  united  their  forces  in  common  efforts. 
It  is  true  that  this  was  not  the  final  award  of  history ;  things 
were  yet  to  arrange  themselves  in  a  very  different  fashion. 
But  it  was  necessary,  perhaps,  that  the  main  outlines  should 
be  shaped  by  the  absolute  authority  of  a  single  will,  in  order 
that  in  the  future  a  free  life  might  develop  within  them. 
But  for  the  general  history  of  Europe  nothing  is  of  more 
importance  than  the  fact  that  Cromwell  directed  the  energies 
of  England  against  the  Spanish  monarchy.  It  was  the  idea 
which  was  most  peculiarly  his  own ;  the  Commonwealth 
would  hardly  have  done  it.  We  are  not  considering  the  po- 
litical value  of  this  policy,  against  which  there  is  much  to  be 
said;  it  is  only  with  its  results  that  we  are  concerned.  These 
consisted  in  the  fact  that  the  European  system  which  had 
grown  up  out  of  the  dynastic  influence  of  the  Burgundo- 
Austrian  house,  and  had  since  been  dominant  for  nearly  two 
centuries,  was  driven  out  of  the  field  and  forced  to  open  a 
new  path  for  itself.  To  the  English  people  itself,  and  es- 
pecially to  their  navy,  an  important  part  was  thus  at  once 
allotted.  Cromwell  did  not  create  the  English  navy.  On 
the  contrary,  the  views  of  its  chiefs  were  hostile  to  him; 
but  he  gave  it  its  strongest  impulse.  We  have  seen  how 
vigorously  it  rose  to  power  in  all  parts  of  the  world.  The 
coasts  of  Europe  toward  the  Atlantic  and  Mediterranean 
especially  felt  the  weight  of  the  English  arms.  The  idea 
was  more  than  once  suggested  of  effecting  settlements  on 
the  Italian  and  even  on  the  German  coasts.  Such  a  settlement 
was  actually  gained  in  the  Netherlands,  and  was  to  be  gradu- 
ally enlarged.  It  was  said  that  Crnmwpll  rarrfafl  the  key  of 
{he  Continent  at  his  girdle.  Holland  was  compelled,  how- 
ever  reluctantly,  to  follow  the  impulse  given  her  by  England. 
Portugal  yielded  in  order  to  preserve  her  own  existence. 


190  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

England  could  calmly  await  any  future  complications  which 
might  arise  on  the  Continent. 

So  far  as  home  government  was  concerned,  Cromwell  pos- 
sessed two  qualities  very  opposite  in  themselves,  yet  sup- 
plementing each  other:  a  certain  pliancy  in  matters  of  prin- 
ciple and  great  firmness  in  the  exercise  of  authority.  Had 
he  allowed  the  tendencies  of  the  separatists  and  the  demo- 
cratic zeal  of  the  army,  in  conjunction  with  which  he  arose 
to  power,  to  run  their  course  unchecked,  everything  must 
have  been  plunged  in  chaotic  confusion,  and  the  existence  of 
the  new  state  would  have  been  impossible.  Utterly  opposite 
as  he  was  to  King  Charles  in  disposition  and  character, 
and  in  the  general  bent  of  his  mind,  yet  Cromwell  exercised 
a  very  similar  influence  upon  the  English  constitution.  The 
king  upheld  the  idea  of  the  English  Church :  in  defense  of 
this  he  died.  Cromwell  was  the  champion  of  civil  law  and 
personal  property.  He  broke  with  his  party  when  it  attacked 
these  fundamental  principles  of  society  and  of  the  state. 
It  was  of  the  most  lasting  importance  for  England  that  he 
did  this  without  fettering  himself  with  the  idea  of  the  kingly 
power,  and  relying  simply  on  the  necessity  of  the  kings. 
But  it  was  beyond  his  power  thus  to  consolidate  a  tolerably 
durable  constitution.  His  was  at  best  but  a  de  facto  authority, 
depending  for  its  existence  on  the  force  of  arms  and  his  own 
personal  character.  Such  as  it  was,  it  was  felt  to  be  an  op- 
pressive burden,  at  home  no  less  by  those  who  longed  for  a 
return  to  the  old  legitimate  forms  than  by  his  own  party, 
whom  he  excluded  from  all  share  in  public  authority;  abroad 
by  those  who  feared  him,  and  by  those  who  were  his  allies. 
In  Amsterdam  this  feeling  was  grotesquely  enough  expressed. 
When  the  news  was  received  of  Cromwell's  death,  there  was 
a  momentary  cessation  of  business.  People  were  seen  to 
dance  in  the  streets,  crying,  "  The  devil  is  dead  !  "  And  so 
in  London  the  mob  were  heard  to  utter  curses  when  Richard 
Cromwell,  Oliver's  son,  was  proclaimed  Protector. 


THE   DEFEAT   OF   THE   SPANISH    ARMADA.  191 

The  Defeat  of  the  Spanish  Armada. 

SIR  E.  C.  CREASY. 

This  is  an  account  how  an  enterprise  undertaken  by  a  Catholic 
King,  encouraged  and  blessed  by  the  Pope,  against  Protestant 
England,  ended  in  failure  and  disaster. 

On  the  afternoon  of  July  19,  1588,  a  group  of  English 
captains  was  collected  at  the  bowling  green  on  the  Hoe,  at 
Plymouth,  whose  equals  have  never  before  or  since  been 
brought  together,  even  at  that  favorite  mustering  place  of 
the  heroes  of  the  British  navy.  There  was  Sir  Francis 
Drake,  the  first  English  circumnavigator  of  the  globe,  the 
terror  of  every  Spanish  coast  in  the  Old  World  and  the  New ; 
there  was  Sir  John  Hawkins,  the  rough  veteran  of  many  a 
daring  voyage  on  the  African  and  the  American  seas  and 
of  many  a  desperate  battle;  there  was  Martin  Frobisher,  one 
of  the  earliest  explorers  of  the  Arctic  seas  in  search  of  the 
northwest  passage. 

There  was  the  high  admiral  of  England,  Lord  Howard 
of  Effingham,  prodigal  of  all  things  in  his  country's  cause, 
and  who  had  recently  had  the  noble  daring  to  refuse  to 
dismantle  part  of  the  fleet,  though  the  Queen  had  sent  him 
orders  to  do  so  in  consequence  of  an  exaggerated  report 
that  the  enemy  had  been  driven  back  and  shattered  by  a 
storm.  Lord  Howard — whom  contemporary  writers  describe 
as  being  of  a  wise  and  noble  courage,  skillful  in  sea  matters, 
wary  and  provident,  and  of  great  esteem  among  sailors — re- 
solved to  risk  his  sovereign's  anger,  and  to  keep  the  ships 
afloat  at  his  own  charge,  rather  than  that  England  should  run 
the  peril  of  losing  their  protection. 

Another  of  our  Elizabethan  sea-kings,  Sir  Walter  Raleigh, 
was  at  that  time  commissioned  to  raise  and  equip  the  land 
forces  of  Cornwall ;  but  we  may  well  believe  that  he  must  have 
availed  himself  of  the  opportunity  of  consulting  with  the 
Lord  Admiral  and  the  other  high  officers,  which  was  offered 
by  the  English  fleet  putting  into  Plymouth ;  and  we  may  look 
on  Raleigh  as  one  of  the  group  that  was  assembled  at  the 
bowling  green  on  the  Hoe. 

Many  other  brave  men  and  skillful  mariners,  besides  the 


192  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

chiefs  whose  names  have  been  mentioned,  were  there,  en- 
joying with  true  sailor-like  merriment  their  temporary  re- 
laxation from  duty.  In  the  harbor  lay  the  English  fleet  with 
which  they  had  just  returned  from  a  cruise  to  Corunna  in 
search  of  information  respecting  the  real  condition  and 
movement  of  the  hostile  armada.  Lord  Howard  had  ascer- 
tained that  our  enemies,  though  tempest-tossed,  were  still 
formidably  strong;  and,  fearing  that  part  of  their  fleet 
might  make  for  England  in  his  absence,  he  had  hurried  back 
to  the  Devonshire  coast.  He  resumed  his  station  at  Plymouth, 
and  waited  there  for  certain  tidings  of  the  Spaniards'  ap- 
proach. 

A  match  at  bowls  was  being  played,  in  which  Drake  and 
other  high  officers  of  the  fleet  were  engaged,  when  a  small 
armed  vessel  was  seen  running  before  the  wind  into  Plymouth 
harbor  with  all  sails  set.  Her  commander  landed  in  haste 
and  eagerly  sought  the  place  where  the  English  Lord  Admiral 
and  his  captains  were  standing.  His  name  was  Fleming;  he 
was  the  master  of  a  Scotch  privateer ;  and  he  told  the  English 
officers  that  he  had  that  morning  seen  the  Spanish  Armada 
off  the  Cornish  coast.  At  this  exciting  information  the 
captains  began  to  hurry  down  to  the  water,  and  there  was 
a  shouting  for  the  ships'  boats;  but  Drake  coolly  checked 
his  comrades,  and  insisted  that  the  match  should  be  played 
out.  He  said  that  there  was  plenty  of  time  both  to  win  the 
game  and  beat  the  Spaniards.  The  best  and  bravest  match 
that  ever  was  scored  was  resumed  accordingly.  Drake  and 
his  friends  aimed  their  last  bowls  with  the  same  steady, 
calculating  coolness  with  which  they  were  about  to  point 
their  guns.  The  winning  cast  was  made;  and  then  they 
went  on  board  and  prepared  for  action,  with  their  hearts  as 
light  and  their  nerves  as  firm  as  they  had  been  on  the  Hoe 
bowling  green. 

Meanwhile  the  messengers  and  signals  had  been  dispatched 
fast  and  far  through  England  to  warn  each  town  and  village 
that  the  enemy  had  come  at  last.  In  every  seaport  there  was 
instant  making  ready  by  land  and  by  sea ;  in  every  shire  and 
every  city  there  was  instant  mustering  of  horse  and  man. 
But  England's  best  defense  then,  as  ever,  was  in  her  fleet ;  and, 
after  warping  laboriously  out  of  Plymouth  harbor  against 
the  wind,  the  Lord  Admiral  stood  westward  under  easy  sail, 


THE   DEFEAT   OF   THE   SPANISH    ARMADA.  193 

keeping  an  anxious  lookout  for  the  Armada,  the  approach 
of  which  was  soon  announced  by  Cornish  fisher-boats  and 
signals  from  the  Cornish  cliffs. 

It  is  not  easy,  without  some  reflection  and  care,  to  com- 
prehend the  full  extent  of  the  peril  which  England  then 
ran  from  the  power  and  the  ambition  of  Spain,  or  to  ap- 
preciate the  importance  of  that  crisis  in  the  history  of  the 
world.  Queen  Elizabeth  had  found  at  her  accession  an 
encumbered  revenue,  a  divided  people,  and  an  unsuccessful 
foreign  war,  in  which  the  last  remnant  of  our  possessions  in 
France  had  been  lost;  she  had  also  a  formidable  pretender 
to  her  crown,  whose  interests  were  favored  by  all  the  Roman 
Catholic  powers.  It  is  true  that,  during  the  years  of  her 
reign  which  had  passed  away  before  the  attempted  invasion 
of  1588,  she  had  revived  the  commercial  prosperity,  the 
national  spirit,  and  the  national  loyalty  of  England.  But 
her  resources  to  cope  with  the  colossal  power  of  Philip  II 
still  seemed  most  scanty;  and  she  had  not  a  single  foreign 
ally,  except  the  Dutch,  who  were  themselves  struggling  hard, 
and,  as  it  seemed,  hopelessly,  to  maintain  their  revolt  against 
Spain. 

On  the  other  hand,  Philip  II  was  absolute  master  of  an 
empire  so  superior  to  the  other  states  of  the  world  in  extent, 
in  resources,  and  especially  in  military  and  naval  forces  as 
to  make  the  project  of  enlarging  that  empire  into  a  universal 
monarchy  seem  a  perfectly  feasible  scheme;  and  Philip  had 
both  the  ambition  to  perform  that  project,  and  the  resolution 
to  devote  all  his  energies  and  all  his  means  to  its  realization. 
Since  the  downfall  of  the  Roman  Empire  no  such  prepon- 
derating power  had  existed  in  the  world.  During  the  medi- 
eval centuries  the  chief  European  kingdoms  were  slowly 
molding  themselves  out  of  the  feudal  chaos;  and  though  the 
wars  with  each  other  were  numerous  and  desperate,  and 
several  of  their  respective  kings  figured  for  a  time  as  mighty 
conquerors,  none  of  them  in  those  times  acquired  the  con- 
sistency and  perfect  organization  which  are  requisite  for 
a  long-sustained  career  of  aggrandizement.  After  the  con- 
solidation of  the  great  kingdoms  they  for  some  time  kept  each 
other  in  mutual  check. 

During  the  first  half  of  the  sixteenth  century  the  bal- 
ancing system  was  successfully  practiced  by  European  states- 

13 


194  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

men.  But  when  Philip  II  reigned,  France  had  become  so 
miserably  weak  through  her  civil  wars  that  he  had  nothing 
to  dread  from  the  rival  state  which  had  so  long  curbed  his 
father,  the  Emperor  Charles  V.  In  Germany,  Italy,  and 
Poland  he  had  either  zealous  friends  and  dependents  or  weak 
and  divided  enemies.  Against  the  Turks  he  had  gained  great 
and  glorious  successes;  and  he  might  look  round  the  Con- 
tinent of  Europe  without  discerning  a  single  antagonist  of 
whom  he  could  stand  in  awe.  Spain,  when  he  acceded  to  the 
throne,  was  at  the  zenith  of  her  power. 

The  hardihood  and  spirit  which  the  Aragonese,  the  Cas- 
tilians,  and  the  other  nations  of  the  peninsula  had  acquired 
during  centuries  of  free  institutions  and  successful  war 
against  the  Moors  had  not  yet  become  obliterated.  Charles  V 
had,  indeed,  destroyed  the  liberties  of  Spain;  but  that  had 
been  done  too  recently  for  its  full  evil  to  be  felt  in  Philip's 
time.  A  people  cannot  be  debased  in  a  single  generation; 
and  the  Spaniards  under  Charles  V  and  Philip  II  proved 
the  truth  of  the  remark  that  no  nation  is  ever  so  formidable 
to  its  neighbors,  for  a  time,  as  a  nation  which,  after  being 
trained  up  in  self-government,  passes  suddenly  under  a 
despotic  ruler.  The  energy  of  democratic  institutions  sur- 
vives for  a  few  generations,  and  to  it  are  superadded  the 
decision  and  certainty  which  are  the  attributes  of  govern- 
ment when  all  its  powers  are  directed  by  a  single  mind. 
It  is  true  that  this  preternatural  vigor  is  short-lived:  na- 
tional corruption  and  debasement  gradually  follow  the  loss 
of  the  national  liberties;  but  there  is  an  interval  before 
their  workings  are  felt,  and  in  that  interval  the  most  am- 
bitious schemes  of  foreign  conquest  are  often  successfully 
undertaken. 

Philip  had  also  the  advantage  of  finding  himself  at  the 
head  of  a  large  standing  army  in  a  perfect  state  of  disci- 
pline and  equipment,  in  an  age  when,  except  for  some  few  in- 
significant corps,  standing  armies  were  unknown  in  Chris- 
tendom. The  renown  of  the  Spanish  troops  was  justly  high, 
and  the  infantry  in  particular  was  considered  the  best  in 
the  world.  His  fleet,  also,  was  far  more  numerous  and 
better  appointed  than  that  of  any  other  European  power; 
and  both  his  soldiers  and  his  sailors  had  the  confidence  in 


THE   DEFEAT   OF   THE  SPANISH    ARMADA.  195 

themselves  and  their  commanders  which  a  long  career  of 
successful  warfare  alone  can  create. 

Besides  the  Spanish  crown,  Philip  succeeded  to  the 
kingdom  of  Naples  and  Sicily,  the  duchy  of  Milan,  Franche- 
Comte,  and  the  Netherlands.  In  Africa  he  possessed  Tunis, 
Oran,  the  Cape  Verde  and  the  Canary  Islands;  and  in  Asia, 
the  Philippine  and  Sunda  Islands  and  a  part  of  the  Mo- 
luccas. Beyond  the  Atlantic  he  was  lord  of  the  most  splendid 
portions  of  the  New  World,  which  Columbus  found  "for 
Castile  and  Leon."  The  empires  of  Peru  and  Mexico,  New 
Spain,  and  Chile,  with  their  abundant  mines  of  the  precious 
metals,  Espanola  and  Cuba,  and  many  other  of  the  American 
islands  were  provinces  of  the  sovereign  of  Spain. 

Whatever  diminution  the  Spanish  empire  might  have 
sustained  in  the  Netherlands  seemed  to  be  more  than  com- 
pensated by  the  acquisition  of  Portugal,  which  Philip  had 
completely  conquered  in  1580.  Not  only  that  ancient  kingdom 
itself,  but  all  the  fruits  of  the  maritime  enterprises  of  the 
Portuguese  had  fallen  into  Philip's  hands.  All  the  Portu- 
guese colonies  in  America,  Africa,  and  the  East  Indies  ac- 
knowledged the  sovereignty  of  the  King  of  Spain,  who  thus 
not  only  united  the  whole  Iberian  peninsula  under  his  single 
scepter,  but  had  acquired  a  transmarine  empire  little  inferior 
in  wealth  and  extent  to  that  which  he  had  inherited  at  his 
accession.  The  splendid  victory  which  his  fleet,  in  conjunc- 
tion with  the  papal  and  Venetian  galleys,  had  gained  at 
Lepanto  over  the  Turks,  had  deservedly  exalted  the  fame  of 
the  Spanish  marine  throughout  Christendom;  and  when 
Philip  had  reigned  thirty-five  years,  the  vigor  of  his  empire 
seemed  unbroken,  and  the  glory  of  the  Spanish  arms  had  in- 
creased, and  was  increasing  throughout  the  world. 

One  nation  only  had  been  his  active,  his  persevering,  and 
his  successful  foe.  England  had  encouraged  his  revolted 
subjects  in  Flanders  against  him,  and  given  them  the  aid, 
in  men  and  money,  without  which  they  must  soon  have 
been  humbled  in  the  dust.  English  ships  had  plundered 
his  colonies,  had  defied  his  supremacy  in  the  New  World 
as  well  as  the  Old ;  they  had  inflicted  ignominious  defeats  on 
his  squadrons;  they  had  captured  his  cities  and  burned  his 
arsenals  on  the  very  coasts  of  Spain.  The  English  had  made 
Philip  himself  the  object  of  personal  insult.  He  was  held 


196  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

up  to  ridicule  in  their  stage  plays  and  masks,  and  these 
scoffs  at  the  man  had — as  is  not  unusual  in  such  cases— ex- 
cited the  anger  of  the  absolute  King  even  more  vehemently 
than  the  injuries  inflicted  on  his  power.  Personal  as  well 
as  political  revenge  urged  him  to  attack  England.  Were 
she  once  subdued,  the  Dutch  must  submit;  France  could  not 
cope  with  him;  the  empire  would  not  oppose  him;  and  uni- 
versal dominion  seemed  sure  to  be  the  result  of  the  con- 
quest of  that  malignant  island. 

There  was  yet  another  and  a  stronger  feeling  which  armed 
King  Philip  against  England.  He  was  one  of  the  sincerest 
and  one  of  the  sternest  bigots  of  his  age.  He  looked  on  him- 
self, and  was  looked  on  by  others,  as  the  appointed  champion 
to  extirpate  heresy  and  reestablish  the  papal  power  throughout 
Europe. 

A  powerful  reaction  against  Protestantism  had  taken 
place  since  the  commencement  of  the  second  half  of  the 
i6th  century,  and  he  looked  on  himself  as  destined  to  com- 
plete it.  The  reformed  doctrines  had  been  thoroughly  routed 
out  from  Italy  and  Spain.  Belgium,  which  had  been  pre- 
viously half  Protestant,  had  been  reconquered  both  in  al- 
legiance and  creed  by  Philip,  and  had  become  one  of  the 
most  Catholic  countries  in  the  world.  Half  Germany  had 
been  won  back  to  the  old  faith.  In  Savoy,  in  Switzerland,  and 
many  other  countries  the  progress  of  the  counter-reformation 
had  been  rapid  and  decisive.  The  Catholic  League  seemed 
victorious  in  France.  The  Papal  Court  itself  had  shaken  off 
the  supineness  of  recent  centuries,  and  at  the  head  of  the 
Jesuits  and  the  other  new  ecclesiastical  orders  was  displayed 
a  vigor  and  a  boldness  worthy  of  the  days  of  Hildebrand 
or  Innocent  III. 

Throughout  continental  Europe  the  Protestants,  discom- 
fited and  dismayed,  looked  to  England  as  their  protector  and 
refuge.  England  was  the  acknowledged  central  point  of 
Protestant  power  and  policy ;  and  to  conquer  England  was  to 
stab  Protestantism  to  the  very  heart.  Sixtus  V,  the  then 
reigning  Pope,  earnestly  exhorted  Philip  to  this  enterprise. 
And  when  the  tidings  reached  Italy  and  Spain  that  the 
Protestant  Queen  of  England  had  put  to  death  her  Catholic 
prisoner,  Mary,  Queen  of  Scots,  the  fury  of  the  Vatican 


THE   DEFEAT   OF   THE   SPANISH    ARMADA.  197 

and  Escurial  knew  no  bounds.  Elizabeth  was  denounced  as 
the  murderous  heretic,  whose  destruction  was  an  instant 
duty. 

A  formal  treaty  was  concluded,  in  June,  1587,  by  which 
the  Pope  bound  himself  to  contribute  a  million  of  scudi  to  the 
expenses  of  the  war,  the  money  to  be  paid  as  soon  as  the  King 
had  actual  possession  of  an  English  port.  Philip,  on  his 
part,  strained  the  resources  of  his  vast  empire  to  the  utmost. 
The  French  Catholic  chiefs  eagerly  cooperated  with  him. 
In  the  seaports  of  the  Mediterranean  and  along  almost  the 
whole  coast,  from  Gibraltar  to  Jutland,  the  preparation  for 
the  great  armament  were  urged  forward  with  all  the 
earnestness  of  religious  zeal  as  well  as  of  angry  ambition. 

"  Thus,"  says  the  German  historian  of  the  Popes,  "  thus 
did  the  united  powers  of  Italy  and  Spain,  from  which  such 
mighty  influences  had  gone  forth  over  the  whole  world,  now 
rouse  themselves  for  an  attack  upon  England !  The  King 
had  already  compiled,  from  the  archives  of  Simancus,  a 
statement  of  the  claims  which  he  had  to  the  throne  of  that 
country  on  the  extinction  of  the  Stuart  line;  the  most 
brilliant  prospects,  especially  that  of  the  universal  dominion 
of  the  seas,  were  associated  in  his  mind  with  this  enter- 
prise. Everything  seemed  to  conspire  to  such  an  end — the 
predominancy  of  Catholicism  in  Germany,  the  renewed  at- 
tack upon  the  Huguenots  in  France,  the  attempt  upon  Ge- 
neva, and  the  enterprise  against  England.  At  the  same 
moment  a  thoroughly  Catholic  prince,  Sigismund  III,  as- 
cended the  throne  of  Poland,  with  the  prospect  also  of  future 
succession  to  the  throne  of  Sweden;  but  whenever  any 
principle  or  power,  be  it  what  it  may,  aims  at  unlimited  su- 
premacy in  Europe,  some  vigorous  resistance  to  it,  having 
its  origin  in  the  deepest  springs  of  human  nature,  invariably 
arises.  Philip  II  had  to  encounter  newly  awakened  powers, 
graced  by  the  vigor  of  youth  and  elevated  by  a  sense  of  their 
future  destiny. 

"The  intrepid  corsairs,  who  had  rendered  every  sea  in- 
secure, now  clustered  round  the  coasts  of  their  native  island. 
The  Protestants  in  a  body — even  the  Puritans,  although  they 
had  been  subjected  to  as  severe  oppression  as  the  Catholics 
— rallied  round  their  Queen,  who  now  gave  admirable  proof 


198  THE  VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

of  her  masculine  courage  and  her  princely  talent  of  winning 
the  affections  and  leading  the  minds  and  preserving  the  al- 
legiance of  men." 


For  upward  of  a  year  the  Spanish  preparation  had  been 
actively  and  unremittingly  urged  forward.  Negotiations  were, 
during  this  time,  carried  on  at  Ostend,  in  which  various 
pretexts  were  assigned  by  the  Spanish  commissioners  for  the 
gathering  together  of  such  huge  masses  of  shipping,  and  such 
equipments  of  troops  in  all  the  seaports  which  their  master 
ruled.  But  Philip  himself  took  little  care  to  disguise  his  in- 
tentions; nor  could  Elizabeth  and  her  able  ministers  doubt 
but  that  this  island  was  the  real  object  of  the  Spanish 
armament. 

The  peril  that  was  quietly  foreseen  was  resolutely  pro- 
vided for.  Circular  letters  from  the  Queen  were  sent  round 
to  the  lord  lieutenants  of  the  several  counties  requiring 
them  to  "  Call  together  the  best  sort  of  gentlemen  under 
their  lieutenancy,  and  to  declare  unto  them  these  great 
preparations  and  arrogant  threatenings  now  burst  forth  in 
action  upon  the  seas,  where  in  every  man's  particular  state, 
in  the  highest  degree,  could  be  touched  in  respect  of  country, 
liberty,  wives,  children,  lands,  lives,  and — which  was  spe- 
cially to  be  regarded — the  profession  of  the  true  and  sincere 
religion  of  Christ,  and  to  lay  before  them  the  infinite  and 
unspeakable  miseries  that  would  fall .  out  upon  any  such 
change,  which  miseries  were  evidently  seen  by  the  fruits  of 
that  hard  and  cruel  government  holden  in  countries  not  far 
distant. 

"  We  do  look,"  said  the  Queen,  "  that  the  most  part  of 
them  should  have,  upon  this  instant  extraordinary  occasion, 
a  larger  proportion  of  furniture,  both  for  horsemen  and 
footmen,  but  especially  horsemen,  than  have  been  certified 
thereby  to  be  in  their  best  strength  against  any  attempt, 
or  to  be  employed  about  our  own  person  or  otherwise. 
Hereunto  as  we  doubt  not  but  by  your  good  endeavors  they 
will  be  rather  conformable;  so  also  we  assure  ourselves  that 
Almighty  God  will  so  bless  these  their  loyal  hearts  borne 
toward  us,  their  loving  sovereign  and  their  natural  country, 


THE   DEFEAT   OF   THE   SPANISH    ARMADA,  199 

that  all  the  intents  of  any  enemy  whatsoever  shall  be  made 
void  and  frustrate,  to  their  confusion,  your  comfort,  and 
to  God's  high  glory." 

Letters  of  a  similar  kind  were  also  sent  by  the  council 
to  each  of  the  nobility  and  to  the  great  cities.  The  primate 
called  on  the  clergy  for  their  contribution ;  and  by  every 
class  of  the  community  the  appeal  was  responded  to  with 
liberal  zeal,  that  offered  more  even  than  the  Queen  re- 
quired. The  boasting  threats  of  the  Spaniards  had  roused 
the  spirit  of  the  nation,  and  the  whole  people  "  Were  thor- 
oughly irritated  to  stir  up  their  whole  forces  for  their  de- 
fense against  such  prognosticated  conquests,  so  that  in  a 
very  short  time  all  her  whole  realm,  and  every  corner,  were 
furnished  with  armed  men  on  horseback  and  on  foot,  and 
those  continually  trained,  exercised,  and  put  into  bands  in 
warlike  manner,  as  in  no  age  ever  was  before  in  this  realm. 

"  There  was  no  sparing  of  money  to  provide  horse,  armor, 
weapons,  powder,  and  all  necessaries ;  no,  nor  want  of  pro- 
vision of  pioneers,  carriages,  and  victuals  in  every  county  of 
the  realm,  without  exception,  to  attend  upon  the  armies.  And 
to  this  general  furniture  every  man  voluntarily  offered  very 
many  their  services  personally  without  wages,  others  money 
for  armor  and  weapons,  and  to  wage  soldiers — a  matter 
strange,  and  never  the  like  heard  of  in  this  realm  or  else- 
where. And  this  general  reason  moved  all  men  to  large  con- 
tributions, that  when  a  conquest  was  to  be  withstood  wherein 
all  should  be  lost,  it  was  no  time  to  spare  a  portion." 

Our  lion-hearted  Queen  showed  herself  worthy  of  such 
a  people.  A  camp  was  formed  at  Tilbury;  and  there  Eliza- 
beth rode  through  the  ranks,  encouraging  her  captains  and 
her  soldiers  by  her  presence  and  her  words.  One  of  the 
speeches  which  she  addressed  to  them  during  this  crisis  has 
been  preserved,  and,  though  often  quoted,  it  must  not  be 
omitted  here. 

"  My  loving  people,"  she  said,  "  we  have  been  persuaded 
by  some  that  are  careful  of  our  saiety  to  take  heed  how  we 
commit  ourselves  to  armed  multitudes,  for  fear  of  treachery; 
but  I  assure  you  I  do  not  desire  to  live  to  distrust  my  faith- 
ful and  loving  people.  Let  tyrants  fear !  I  have  always  so- 
behaved  myself  that,  under  God,  I  have  placed  my  chiefest 
strength  and  safeguard  in  the  loyal  hearts  and  good  will  of 


200  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

my  subjects;  and  therefore  I  am  come  among  you,  as  you 
see,  at  this  time,  not  for  my  recreation  and  disport,  but  being 
resolved,  in  the  midst  and  heat  of  the  battle,  to  live  or  die 
among  you  all,  to  lay  down  for  my  God,  for  my  kingdom, 
and  for  my  people  my  honor  and  my  blood  even  in  the  dust. 

"  I  know  I  have  the  body  but  of  a  weak  and  feeble 
woman,  but  I  have  the  heart  and  stomach  of  a  king,  and  of 
a  King  of  England,  too,  and  think  it  foul  scorn  that  Parma, 
of  Spain,  or  any  prince  of  Europe,  should  dare  to  invade 
the  borders  of  my  realm,  to  which,  rather  than  any  dishonor 
shall  grow  by  me,  I  myself  will  take  up  arms;  I  myself  will 
be  your  general,  judge,  and  rewarded  of  every  one  of  your 
virtues  in  the  field.  I  know  already,  for  your  frowardness, 
you  have  deserved  rewards  and  crowns :  and  we  do  assure 
you,  on  the  word  of  a  prince,  they  shall  be  duly  paid  you. 
In  the  meantime  my  lieutenant-general  shall  be  in  my 
stead,  than  whom  never  prince  commanded  a  more  noble 
or  worthy  subject,  not  doubting  but  by  your  obedience  to 
my  general,  by  your  concord  in  the  camp,  and  your  valor 
in  the  field  we  shall  shortly  have  a  famous  victory  over 
those  enemies  of  my  God,  of  my  kingdom,  and  of  my  people." 

Some  of  Elizabeth's  advisers  recommended  that  the  whole 
care  and  resources  of  the  government  should  be  devoted  to 
the  equipment  of  the  armies,  and  that  the  enemy,  when  he 
attempted  to  land,  should  be  welcomed  with  a  battle  on  the 
shore.  But  the  wiser  councils  of  Raleigh  and  others  pre- 
vailed, who  urged  the  importance  of  fitting  out  a  fleet  that 
should  encounter  the  Spaniards  at  sea,  and,  if  possible,  pre- 
vent them  from  approaching  the  land  at  all. 

In  Raleigh's  great  work,  The  History  of  the  World,  he 
takes  occasion,  when  discussing  some  of  the  events  of  the 
First  Punic  War,  to  give  his  reasons  on  the  proper  policy 
of  England  when  menaced  with  invasion.  Without  doubt 
we  have  there  the  substance  of  the  advice  which  he  gave 
to  Elizabeth's  council,  and  the  remarks  of  such  a  man  on 
such  a  subject  have  a  general  and  enduring  interest  beyond 
the  immediate  crisis  which  called  them  forth. 

Raleigh  says :  "  Surely  I  hold  that  the  best  way  is  to 
keep  your  enemies  from  treading  upon  our  ground;  wherein 
if  we  fail,  then  must  we  seek  to  make  him  wish  that  he  had 
stayed  at  his  own  home.  In  such  a  case,  if  it  should  happen, 


THE   DEFEAT   OF   THE   SPANISH    ARMADA.  201 

our  judgments  are  to  weigh  many  particular  circumstances 
that  belong  not  unto  this  discourse.  But  making  the  question 
general,  the  positive,  Whether  England,  without  the  help  of 
her  fleet,  be  able  to  debar  an  enemy  from  landing.  I  hold 
that  it  is  unable  to  do  so,  and  therefore  I  think  it  most 
dangerous  to  make  the  adventure;  for  the  encouragement 
of  a  first  victory  to  an  enemy  and  the  discouragement  of 
being  beaten  to  the  invaded,  may  draw  after  it  a  most  perilous 
consequence. 

"  Great  difference  I  know  there  is,  and  a  diverse  consider- 
ation to  be  had  between  such  a  country  as  France  is,  strength- 
ened with  many  fortified  places,  and  this  of  ours,  where  our 
ramparts  are  but  the  bodies  of  men.  But  I  say  that  an 
army  to  be  transported  over  -sea,  and  to  be  landed  again  in  an 
enemy's  country,  and  the  place  left  to  the  choice  of  the  in- 
vader, cannot  be  resisted  on  the  coast  of  England. without 
a  fleet  to  impeach  it;  no,  nor  on  the  coast  of  France  or  any 
other  country,  except  every  creek,  every  fort,  or  sandy  bay 
had  a  powerful  army  in  each  of  them  to  make  opposition.'' 


At  the  time  of  the  Armada,  that  policy  certainly  saved  the 
country,  if  not  from  conquest,  at  least  from  deplorable 
calamities.  If,  indeed,  the  enemy  had  landed,  we  may  be 
sure  that  he  would  have  been  heroically  opposed.  But  history 
shows  us  so  many  examples  of  the  superiority  of  veteran 
troops  over  new  levies,  however  numerous  and  brave,  that, 
without  disparaging  our  countrymen's  soldierly  merits,  we 
may  well  be  thankful  that  no  trial  of  them  was  then  made 
on  English  land.  Especially  must  we  feel  this  when  we 
contrast  the  high  military  genius  of  the  Prince  of  Parma, 
who  would  have  headed  the  Spaniards  with  the  imbecility 
of  the  Earl  of  Leicester,  to  whom  the  deplorable  spirit  of 
favoritism,  which  formed  the  great  blemish  on  Elizabeth's 
character,  had  then  committed  the  chief  command  of  the 
English  armies. 

The  ships  of  the  royal  navy  amounted  at  this  time  to  no- 
more  than  thirty-six ;  but  the  most  serviceable  merchant 
vessels  were  collected  from  all  ports  of  the  country;  and  the 
citizens  of  London,  Bristol,  and  the  other  great  seats  of 
congress  showed  as  liberal  a  zeal  in  equipping  and  manning 


202  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

Tessels  as  the  nobility  and  gentry  displayed  in  mustering 
forces  by  land.  The  sea-faring  population  of  the  coasts,  of 
every  rank  and  station,  was  animated  by  the  same  ready  spirit ; 
and  the  whole  number  of  seamen  who  came  forward  to  man 
the  English  fleet  was  17,472;  the  number  of  the  ships  that 
were  collected  was  191 ;  and  the  total  amount  of  their  ton- 
nage, 31,985.  There  was  one  ship  in  the  fleet — the  Triumph 
— of  1,100  tons,  one  of  1,000,  one  of  900,  two  of  800  each, 
three  of  600,  five  of  500,  five  of  400,  six  oi.  300,  six  of  250, 
twenty  of  200,  and  the  residue  of  inferior  burden. 

Application  was  made  to  the  Dutch  for  assistance;  and, 
as  Stowe  expresses  it :  "  The  Hollanders  came  roundly  in 
with  three-score  sail,  brave  ships  of  war,  fierce  and  full  of 
spleen,  not  so  much  for  England's  aid  as  in  just  occasion  for 
their  own  defense,  these  men  foreseeing  the  greatness  of  the 
danger  that  might  ensue  if  the  Spaniard  should  chance  to 
win  the  day  and  get  the  mastery  over  them;  in  due  regard 
whereof  their  manly  courage  was  inferior  to  none." 

We  have  more  minute  information  of  the  number  and 
equipment  of  the  hostile  forces  than  we  have  of  our  own. 
In  the  first  volume  of  Hakluyt's  Voyages,  dedicated  to  Lord 
Effingham,  who  commanded  against  the  Armada,  there  is 
given — from  the  contemporary  foreign  writer  Meteran — a 
more  complete  and  detailed  catalogue  than  has  perhaps  ever 
appeared  of  a  similar  armament. 

"  A  very  large  and  particular  description  of  this  navie  was 
put  in  print  and  published  by  the  Spaniards,  wherein  were 
set  down  the  number,  names,  and  burthens,  of  the  shippes, 
the  number  of  mariners  and  soldiers  throughout  the  whole 
fleete;  likewise  the  quantitie  of  their  ordinance,  of  their 
armor,  of  bullets,  of  match,  of  gun-poulder,  of  victuals,  and 
of  all  their  navall  furniture  was  in  the  saide  description 
particularized. 

"  Unto  all  these  were  added  the  names  of  the  governours, 
captaines,  noblemen,  and  gentlemen  voluntaries,  of  whom 
there  was  a  great  multitude  that  scarce  was  there  any  family 
of  accompt,  or  any  one  principall  man  throughout  all  Spaine 
that  had  not  a  brother,  sonne,  or  kinsman  in  that  fleete ;  who 
all  of  them  were  in  good  hope  to  purchase  unto  themselves 
in  that  navie — as  they  termed  it — invincible,  endless  glory  and 
renown,  and  to  possess  themselves  of  great  seigniories  and 


THE   DEFEAT   OF   THE   SPANISH    ARMADA.  203 

riches  in  England  and  in  the  Low  Countreys.  But  because 
the  said  description  was  translated  and  published  out  of 
Spanish  into  divers  other  languages,  we  will  here  only 
make  an  abridgement  or  brief  rehearsal  thereof. 

"  Portugall  furnished  and  set  foorth  under  the  conduct  of 
the  Duke  of  Medina  Sidonia,  generall  of  the  fleete,  10 
galeons,  2  zabraes,  1,300  mariners,  3,300  souldiers,  300  great 
pieces,  with  all  requisite  furniture. 

"  Biscay,  under  the  conduct  of  John  Martines  de  Ricalde, 
admiral  of  the  whole  fleete,  set  forth  10  galeons,  4  pataches, 
700  mariners,  2,000  souldiers,  250  great  pieces,  etc. 

"  Guipusco,  under  the  conduct  of  Michael  de  Oquendo, 
10  galeons,  4  pataches,  700  mariners,  2,000  souldiers,  310 
great  pieces. 

"  Italy  with  the  Levant  islands,  under  Martine  de  Ver- 
tendona,  10  galeons,  800  mariners,  2,000  souldiers,  310  great 
pieces,  etc. 

"  Castile,  under  Diego  Flores  de  Valdez,  14  galeons,  2 
pataches,  1,700  mariners,  2,400  souldiers,  and  380  great 
pieces,  etc. 

"  Andaluzia,  under  the  conduct  of  Petro  de  Valdez,  10 
galeons,  i  patache,  800  mariners,  2,400  souldiers,  280  great 
pieces,  etc. 

"  Item,  under  the  conduct  of  John  Lopez  de  Medina,  23. 
great  Flemish  hulkes,  with  700  mariners,  3,200  souldiers, 
and  400  great  pieces. 

"  Item,  under  Hugo  de  Moncada,  4  galliasses,  containing 
1,200  galley  slaves,  460  mariners,  870  souldiers,  200  great 
pieces,  etc. 

"  Item,  under  Diego  de  Mandrana,  4  gallies  of  Portugal, 
with  888  galley-slaves,  360  mariners,  20  great  pieces,  and 
other  requisite  furniture. 

"  Item,  under  Anthonie  de  Mendoza,  22  pataches  and  za- 
braes, with  574  mariners,  488  souldiers,  and  193  great  pieces. 

"  Besides  the  ships  aforementioned,  there  were  20  caravels 
rowed  with  oares,  being  appointed  to  performe  necessary 
services  under  the  greater  ships,  insomuch  that  all  the 
ships  appertayning  to  this  navie  amounted  unto  the  summe 
of  150,  eche  one  being  sufficiently  provided  of  furniture  and 
victuals. 

"  The  number  of  mariners  in  the  saide  fleete  were  above 


204  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

8,000,  of  slaves  2,088,  of  souldiers  20,000 — besides  noblemen 
and  gentlemen  voluntaries;  of  great  cast  pieces,  2,600.  The 
aforesaid  ships  were  of  an  huge  and  incredible  capacitie  and 
receipt,  for  the  whole  fleete  was  large  enough  to  containe  the 
burthen  of  60,000  tunnes. 

"The  galeons  were  64  in  number,  being  of  an  huge 
bignesse,  and  very  flately  built,  being  of  marveilous  force 
also,  and  so  high  that  they  resembled  great  castles,  most  fit 
to  defend  themselves  and  to  withstand  any  assault,  but  in 
giving  any  other  ships  the  encounter  farr  inferiour  unto 
the  English  and  Dutch  ships,  which  can  with  great  dexteritie 
wield  and  turne  themselves  at  all  assayes.  The  upper  worke 
of  the  said  galeons  was  of  thicknesse  and  strength  sufficient 
to  beare  off  musket-shot.  The  lower  worke  and  the  timbers 
thereof  were  out  of  measure  strong,  being  framed  of  plankes 
and  ribs  foure  or  five  foot  in  thicknesse,  insomuch  that  no 
bullet  could  pierce  them  but  such  as  were  discharged  hard 
at  hand,  which  afterward  proved  true,  for  a  great  number  of 
bullets  were  found  to  sticke  fast  within  the  massie  substance 
of  those  thicke  plankes.  Great  and  well-pitched  cables  were 
twined  about  the  masts  of  their  shippes,  to  strengthen  them 
against  the  battery  of  shot. 

"  The  galliasses  were  of  such  bignesse  that  they  con- 
tained within  them  chambers,  chapels,  turrets,  pulpits,  and 
other  commodities  of  great  houses.  The  galliasses  were 
rowed  with  great  oares,  there  being  in  eche  one  of  them 
300  slaves  for  the  same  purpose,  and  were  able  to  do  great 
service  with  the  force  of  their  ordinance.  All  these,  together 
with  the  residue  aforenamed,  were  furnished  and  beautified 
with  trumpets,  streamers,  banners,  warlike  ensignes,  and 
other  such  like  ornaments. 

"  Their  pieces  of  brazen  ordinance  were  1,600,  and  of 
yron  a  1,000. 

"  The  bullets  thereto  belonging  were  120,000. 

"Item  of  gun-poulder,  5,600  quintals;  of  matche,  1,200 
quintals;  of  muskets  and  kaleivers,  7,000;  of  haleberts  and 
partisans,  10,000. 

"  Morever,  they  had  great  stores  of  canons,  double-canons, 
culverings  and  field-pieces  for  land  services. 

"  Likewise  they  were  provided  of  all  instruments  necessary 
on  land  to  conveigh  and  transport  their  furniture  from  place 


THE   DEFEAT   OF   THE   SPANISH    ARMADA.  205 

to  place,  as  namely  of  carts,  wheeles,  wagons,  etc.  Also  they 
had  spades,  mattocks,  and  baskets  to  set  pionets  on  worke. 
They  had  in  like  sort  great  store  of  mules  and  horses,  and 
whatsoever  else  was  requisite  for  a  land  armie.  They  were  so 
well  stored  of  biscuit,  that  for  the  space  of  half  a  yeere  they 
might  allow  eche  person  in  the  whole  fleete  halfe  a  quintall 
every  moneth,  whereof  the  whole  summe  amounteth  unto 
an  hundreth  thousand  quintals. 

"  Likewise  of  wine  they  had  147,000  pipes,  sufficient  for 
halfe  a  yeere's  expedition.  Of  bacon,  6,500  quintals.  Of 
cheese,  3,000  quintals.  Besides  fish,  rise,  beanes,  pease,  oile, 
vinegar,  etc. 

"  Morever,  they  had  12,000  pipes  of  fresh  water,  and  all 
other  necessary  provision,  as  namely  candles,  lanternes, 
lampes,  sailes,  hempe,  oxe-hides,  and  lead  to  stop  holes  that 
should  be  made  with  the  battery  of  gunshot.  To  be  short,  they 
brought  all  things  expedient,  either  for  a  fleete  by  sea,  or  for 
an  armie  by  land. 

"  This  navie — as  Diego  Pimentelli  afterward  confessed — 
was  estemmed  by  the  King  himselfe  to  containe  32,000  per- 
sons, and  to  cost  him  every  day  30,000  ducates. 

"  There  were  in  the  said  navie  five  terzaes  of  Spaniards 
— which  terzaes  the  Frenchmen  call  regiments — under  the 
command  of  five  governours,  termed  by  the  Spaniards  masters 
of  the  field,  and  among  the  rest  there  were  many  olde  and 
expert  souldiers  chosen  out  of  the  garisons  of  Sicilie,  Naples, 
and  Tgrcera.  Their  captaines  or  colonels  were  Diego  Pim- 
entelli, Don  Francisco  de  Toledo,  Don  Alonqo  de  Lucon, 
Don  Nicolas  de  Isla,  Don  Augustin  de  Mexia,  who  had 
eche  of  them  thirty-two  companies  under  their  conduct. 
Besides  the  which  companies,  there  were  many  bands  also 
of  t  Castilians  and  Portugals,  every  one  of  which  had  their 
peculiar  governours,  captaines,  officers,  colors  and  weapons." 

While  this  huge  armament  was  making  ready  in  the 
southern  ports  of  the  Spanish  dominions,  the  Duke  of  Parma, 
with  almost  incredible  toil  and  skill,  collected  a  squadron  of 
war-ships  at  Dunkirk,  and  a  large  flotilla  of  other  ships  and 
of  flat-bottomed  boats  for  the  transport  to  England  of  the 
picked  troops  which  were  designed  to  be  the  main  instruments 
in  subduing  England.  The  design  of  the  Spaniards  was  that 
the  Armada  should  give  them,  at  least  for  a  time,  the  com- 


206  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

mand  of  the  sea,  and  that  it  should  join  the  squadron  that 
Parma  had  collected  off  Calais.  Then,  escorted  by  an  over- 
powering naval  force,  Parma  and  his  army  were  to  embark 
in  their  flotilla,  and  cross  the  sea  to  England,  where  they  were 
to  be  landed,  together  with  the  troops  which  the  Armada 
brought  from  the  ports  of  Spain. 

The  scheme  was  not  dissimilar  to  one  formed  against 
England  a  little  more  than  two  centuries  afterward.  As 
Napoleon,  in  1785,  waited  with  his  army  and  flotilla  at  Bou- 
logne, looking  for  Villeneuve  to  drive  away  the  English 
cruisers  and  secure  him  a  passage  across  the  Channel,  so 
Parma,  in  1588,  waited  for  Medina  Sidonia  to  drive  away 
the  Dutch  and  English  squadrons  that  watched  uis  flotilla, 
and  to  enable  his  veterans  to  cross  the  sea  to  the  land  that 
they  were  to  conquer.  Thanks  to  Providence,  in  each  case 
England's  enemy  waited  in  vain ! 

Although  the  numbers  of  sail  which  the  Queen's  govern- 
ment and  the  patriotic  zeal  of  volunteers  had  collected  for  the 
defense  of  England  exceeded  the  number  of  sail  in  the 
Spanish  fleet,  the  English  ships  were,  collectively,  far  inferior 
in  size  to  their  adversaries',  their  aggregate  tonnage  being  less 
by  half  than  that  of  the  enemy.  In  the  number  of  guns  and 
weight  of  metal  the  disproportion  was  still  greater.  The 
English  admiral  was  also  obliged  to  subdivide  his  force;  and 
Lord  Henry  Seymour,  with  forty  of  the  best  Dutch  and 
English  ships,  was  employed  in  blockading  the  hostile  ports 
in  Flanders,  and  in  preventing  the  Duke  of  Parma  from  com- 
ing out  of  Dunkirk. 

The  Invincible  Armada,  as  the  Spaniards  in  the  pride  of 
their  hearts  named  it,  set  sail  from  the  Tagus  on  May  29, 
but  near  Corunna  met  with  a  tempest  that  drove  it  into  port 
with  severe  loss.  It  was  the  report  of  the  damage  done  to 
the  enemy  by  this  storm  which  caused  the  English  Court  to 
suppose  that  there  would  be  no  invasion  that  year.  But,  as 
already  mentioned,  the  English  Admiral  had  sailed  to  Co- 
runna, and  learned  the  real  state  of  the  case,  whence  he  had 
returned  with  his  ships  to  Plymouth. 

The  Armada  sailed  again  from  Corunna  on  July  12.  The 
orders  of  King  Philip  to  the  Duke  of  Medina  Sidonia  were 
.rictt  he  should,  on  entering  the  Channel,  keep  near  the 
French  coast,  and,  if  attacked  by  the  English  ships,  avoid 


THE   DEFEAT   OF   THE   SPANISH    ARMADA.  207 

an  action  and  steer  on  to  Calais  roads,  where  the  Prince  of 
Parma's  squadron  was  to  join  him.  The  hope  of  surprising 
and  destroying  the  English  fleet  in  Plymouth  led  the  Spanish 
admiral  to  deviate  from  these  orders  and  to  stand  across  to 

P 

the  English  shore;  but,  on  finding  that  Lord  Howard  was 
coming  out  to  meet  him,  he  resumed  the  original  plan,  and 
determined  to  bend  his  way  steadily  toward  Calais  and  Dun- 
kirk and  to  keep  merely  on  the  defensive  against  such 
squadrons  of  the  English  as  might  come  up  with  him. 

It  was  on  Saturday,  July  20,  that  Lord  Effingham  came 
in  sight  of  his  formidable  adversaries.  The  Armada  was 
drawn  up  in  form  of  a  crescent,  which  from  horn  to  horn 
measured  seven  miles.  There  was  a  southwest  wind,  and  be- 
fore it  the  vast  vessels  sailed  slowly  on.  The  English  let  them 
pass  by,  and  then,  following  in  the  rear,  commenced  an  at- 
tack on  them.  A  running  fight  now  took  place  in  which  some 
of  the  best  ships  of  the  Spaniards  were  captured ;  many  more 
received  heavy  damage,  while  the  English  vessels,  which 
took  care  not  to  close  with  their  huge  antagonists,  but 
availed  themselves  of  their  superior  celerity  in  tacking  and 
maneuvring,  suffered  little  comparative  loss. 

Each  day  added  not  only  to  the  spirit,  but  to  the  number 
of  Effingham's  force.  Raleigh,  Oxford,  Cumberland,  and 
Sheffield  joined  him ;  and  "  the  gentlemen  of  England  hired 
ships  from  all  parts  at  their  own  charge,  and  with  one  accord 
came  flocking  thither  as  to  a  set  field  where  glory  was  to  be 
attained  and  faithful  service  performed  unto  their  prince  and 
their  country." 

Raleigh  justly  praises  the  English  admiral  for  his  skillful 
tactics :  "  Certainly  he  that  will  happily  perform  a  fight  at  sea 
must  be  skillful  in  making  choice  of  vessels  to  fight  in;  he 
must  believe  that  there  is  more  belonging  to  a  good  man- 
of-war  upon  the  waters  than  great  daring,  and  must  know 
that  there  is  a  great  deal  of  difference  between  fighting  loose 
or  at  large  and  grappling.  The  guns  of  a  slow  ship  pierce  as 
well  and  make  as  great  holes  as  those  in  a  swift.  To  clap 
ships  together,  without  consideration,  belongs  rather  to  a 
madman  than  to  a  man-of-war;  for  by  such  an  ignorant 
bravery  was  Peter  Strossie  lost  at  the  Azores  when  he  fought 
against  the  Marquis  of  Santa  Cruza. 


208  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

"In  like  sort  had  the  Lord  Charles  Howard,  Admiral  of 
England,  been  lost  in  the  year  1588,  if  he  had  not  been  better 
advised  than  a  great  many  malignant  fools  were  that  found 
fault  with  his  demeanor.  The  Spaniards  had  an  army  aboard 
them,  and  he  had  none ;  they  had  more  ships  than  he  had,  and 
of  higher  building  and  charging,  so  that,  had  he  entangled 
himself  with  those  great  and  powerful  vessels,  he  had  greatly 
endangered  this  kingdom  of  England;  for  20  men  upon  the 
defenses  are  equal  to  100  that  board  and  enter ;  whereas,  then, 
contrariwise,  the  Spaniards  had  a  hundred  for  twenty  of 
ours  to  defend  themselves  withal.  But  our  admiral  knew 
his  advantage,  and  held  it;  which  had  he  not  done,  he  had 
not  been  worthy  to  have  held  his  head  up." 

The  Spanish  Admiral  also  showed  great  judgment  and 
firmness  in  following  the  line  of  conduct  that  had  been  traced 
out  for  him;  and  on  July  27  he  brought  his  fleet  unbroken, 
though  sorely  distressed,  to  anchor  in  Calais  Roads.  But 
the  King  of  Spain  had  calculated  ill  the  number  and  the  ac- 
tivity of  the  English  and  Dutch  fleets.  As  the  old  historian 
expresses  it :  "  It  seemeth  that  the  Duke  of  Parma  and  the 
Spaniards  grounded  upon  a  vain  and  presumptuous  expecta- 
tion that  all  the  ships  of  England  and  of  the  Low  Countryes 
would  at  the  first  sight  of  the  Spanish  and  Dunkerk  navie  had 
betaken  themselves  to  flight,  yeelding  them  sea-room,  and 
endeavoring  only  to  defend  themselues,  their  havens,  and 
sea-coast  from  invasion. 

"  Wherefor  their  intent  and  purpose  was,  that  the  Duke 
of  Parma,  in  his  small  and  flat-bottomed  ships,  should,  as  it 
were,  under  the  shadow  and  wings  of  the  Spanish  fleet, 
convey  ouer  all  his  troupes,  armor,  and  warlike  provisions, 
and  with  their  forces  so  united,  should  invade  England; 
or  while  the  English  fleet  were  busied  in  the  fight  against 
the  Spanish,  should  enter  upon  any  part  of  the  coast,  which 
he  thought  to  be  most  convenient.  Which  invasion — as  the 
captives  afterward  confessed — the  Duke  of  Parma  thought 
first  to  have  attempted  by  the  River  of  Thames;  upon  the 
banks  whereof  having  at  the  first  arrivall  landed  twenty 
or  thirty  thousand  of  his  principall  souldiers,  he  supposed 
that  he  might  easily  have  wonne  the  citie  of  London ;  both 
because  his  small  shippes  should  have  followed  and  assisted 
his  land  forces  and  also  for  that  the  citie  it-self e  was  but 


THE   DEFEAT   OF  THE  SPANISH   ARMADA.  209 

meanely  fortified  and  easie  to  ouercome,  by  reason  of  the 
citizen's  delicacie  and  discontinuance  from  the  warres,  who, 
with  continuall  and  constant  labor,  might  be  vannuished, 
if  they  yielded  not  at  the  first  assault." 

But  the  English  and  Dutch  found  ships  and  mariners 
enough  to  keep  the  Armada  itself  in  check,  and  at  the 
same  time  to  block  up  Parma's  flotilla.  The  greater  part 
of  Seymour's  squadron  left  its  cruising-ground  off  Dunkirk 
to  join  the  English  Admiral  off  Calais;  but  the  Dutch 
manned  about  five  and  thirty  sail  of  good  ships,  with  a 
strong  force  of  soldiers  on  board,  all  well  seasoned  to  the 
sea-service,  and  with  these  he  blockaded  the  Flemish  ports 
that  were  in  Parma's  power.  Still  it  was  resolved  by  the 
Spanish  Admiral  and  the  Prince  to  endeavor  to  effect  a 
junction,  which  the  English  seamen  were  equally  resolute 
to  prevent;  and  bolder  measures  on  our  side  now  became 
necessary. 

The  Armada  lay  off  Calais,  with  its  largest  ships  ranged 
outside,  "  like  strong  castles  fearing  no  assault,  the  lesser 
placed  in  the  middle  ward."  The  English  Admiral  could 
not  attack  them  in  their  position  without  great  disadvantage, 
but  on  the  night  of  the  29th,  he  sent  eight  fire  ships  among 
them,  with  almost  equal  effect  to  that  of  the  fire  ships  which 
the  Greeks  so  often  employed  against  the  Turkish  fleets  in 
their  war  of  independence. 

The  Spaniards  cut  their  cables  and  put  to  sea  in  confusion. 
One  of  the  largest  galeases  ran  foul  of  another  vessel  and 
was  stranded.  The  rest  of  the  fleet  was  scattered  about  on 
the  Flemish  coast,  and  when  the  morning  broke,  it  was  with 
difficulty  and  delay  that  they  obeyed  their  Admiral's  signal 
to  range  themselves  round  him  near  Gravelines.  Now  was 
the  golden  opportunity  for  the  English  to  assail  them,  and  pre- 
vent them  from  ever  letting  loose  Parma's  flotilla  against 
England,  and  nobly  was  that  opportunity  used. 

Drake  and  Fenner  were  the  first  English  captains  who 
attacked  the  unwieldy  leviathans;  then  came  Fenton,  South- 
well, Burton,  Cross,  Raynor,  and  then  the  Lord  Admiral, 
with  Lord  Thomas  Howard  and  Lord  Sheffield.  The  Span- 
iards only  thought  of  forming  and  keeping  close  together, 
and  were  driven  by  the  English  past  Dunkirk,  and  far  away 
from  the  Prince  of  Parma,  who,  in  watching  their  defeat 

14 


210  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

from  the  coast,  must,  as  Drake  expressed  it,  have  chafed 
like  a  bear  robbed  of  her  whelps.  This  was  indeed  the  last 
and  the  decisive  battle  between  the  two  fleets.  It  is,  perhaps, 
best  described  in  the  very  words  of  the  contemporary  writer, 
as  we  read  them  in  Hakluyt: 

"  Upon  the  -29th  of  July  in  the  morning,  the  Spanish  fleet 
after  the  forsayd  tumult,  having  arranged  themselves  again 
into  order,  were,  within  sight  of  Greveling,  most  bravely  and 
furiously  encountered  by  the  English,  where  they  once  again 
got  the  wind  of  the  Spaniards,  who  suffered  themselues  to 
be  deprived  of  the  commodity  of  the  place  in  Caleis  road, 
and  of  the  advantage  of  the  wind  neer  unto  Dunkerk,  rather 
than  they  would  change  their  array  or  separate  their  forces 
now  conjoyned  and  united  together  standing  only  upon  their 
defense. 

"  And  albeit  there  were  many  excellent  and  warlike  ships 
in  the  English  fleet,  yet  scarce  were  there  22  or  23  among 
them  all,  which  matched  ninety  of  the  Spanish  ships  in  the 
bigness,  or  could  conveniently  assault  them,  wherefore  the 
English  ships  using  their  prerogative  of  nimble  steering, 
whereby  they  could  turn  and  wield  themselves  with  the  wind 
which  way  they  listed,  came  oftentimes  very  near  upon  the 
Spaniards,  and  charged  them  so  sore  that  now  and  then 
they  were  but  a  pipe's  length  asunder;  and  so  continually 
giving  them  one  broadside  after  another,  they  discharged  all 
their  shot,  both  great  and  small,  upon  them,  spending  one 
whole  day,  from  morning  till  night,  in  that  violent  kind  of 
conflict,  until  such  time  as  powder  and  bullets  failed  them. 

"  In  regard  of  which  want  they  thought  it  convenient  not 
to  pursue  the  Spaniards  any  longer,  because  they  had  many 
advantages  of  the  English,  namely,  for  the  extraordinary  big- 
ness of  their  shippes,  and  also  for  that  they  were  so  nearly 
conjoyned,  and  kept  together  in  so  good  array,  that  they 
could  by  no  means  be  fought  withall  one  to  one.  The 
English  thought,  therefore,  that  they  had  right  well  acquitted 
themselues  in  chasing  the  Spaniards  first  from  Caleis,  and  then 
from  Dunkerk,  and  by  that  means  to  have  hindered  them  from 
joining  with  the  Duke  of  Parma  his  forces  and  getting  the 
wind  of  them,  to  have  driven  them  from  their  own  coast. 

"  The  Spaniards  that  day  sustained  great  loss  and  damage, 
having  many  of  their  shippes  show  thorow  and  thorow,  and 


THE   DEFEAT   OF   THE   SPANISH    ARMADA.  211 

they  discharged  likewise  great  store  of  ordinance  against 
the  English,  who,  indeed,  sustained  some  hinderance,  but  not 
comparable  to  the  Spaniards'  loss;  for  they  lost  not  any  one 
ship  for  person  of  account ;  for  very  diligent  inquisition  being 
made,  the  English  men  all  the  time  wherein  the  Spanish 
navy  sayled  upon  their  seas,  are  not  found  to  haue  wanted 
aboue  one  hundred  of  their  people ;  albeit  Sir  Francis  Drake's 
ship  was  pierced  with  shot  aboue  forty  times,  and  his  very 
cabben  was  twice  shot  thorow,  and  about  the  conclusion  of  the 
fight,  the  bed  of  a  certaine  gentleman  lying  weary  thereupon 
was  taken  quite  from  under  him  with  the  force  of  a  bullet. 

"  Likewise,  as  the  Earle  of  Northumberland  and  Sir 
Charles  Blunt  were  at  dinner  upon  a  time,  the  bullet  of  a 
demy-culvering  brake  thorow  the  middest  of  their  cabben, 
touched  their  feet,  and  stroke  downe  two  of  the  standers-by. 
With  many  such  accidents  befalling  the  English  shippes, 
which  were  tedious  to  rehearse." 

It  reflects  little  credit  on  the  English  government  that  the 
English  fleet  was  so  deficiently  supplied  with  ammunition  as 
to  be  unable  to  complete  the  destruction  of  the  invaders.  But 
enough  was  done  to  insure  it.  Many  of  the  largest  Spanish 
ships  were  sunk  or  captured  in  the  action  of  this  day,  and 
at  length  the  Spanish  Admiral,  despairing  of  success,  fled 
northward  with  a  southerly  wind,  in  the  hope  of  rounding 
Scotland,  and  so  returning  to  Spain  without  a  further 
encounter  with  the  English  fleet. 

Lord  Effingham  left  a  squadron  to  continue  the  block- 
ade of  the  Prince  of  Parma's  armament;  but  that  wise 
general  soon  withdrew  his  troops  to  more  promising  fields 
of  action.  Meanwhile  the  Lord  Admiral  himself  and  Drake 
chased  the  "  vincible "  Armada,  as  it  was  now  termed,  for 
some  distance  northward;  and  then,  when  they  seemed  to 
bend  away  from  the  Scotch  coast  toward  Norway,  it  was 
thought  best,  in  the  words  of  Drake,  "  to  leave  them  to 
those  boisterous  and  uncouth  northern  seas." 

The  sufferings  and  losses  which  the  unhappy  Spaniards 
sustained  in  their  flight  round  Scotland  and  Ireland  are 
well  known.  Of  their  whole  Armada  only  53  shattered 
vessels  brought  back  their  beaten  and  wasted  crews  to  the 
Spanish  coast,  which  they  had  quitted  in  such  pageantry 
and  pride. 


212  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

Some  passages  from  the  writings  of  those  who  took  part 
in  the  struggle  have  been  already  quoted,  and  the  most 
spirited  description  of  the  defeat  of  the  Armada  which  ever 
was  penned  may  perhaps  be  taken  from  the  letter  which  our 
brave  Vice-admiral  Drake  wrote  in  answer  to  some  men- 
dacious stories  by  which  the  Spaniards  strove  to  hide  their 
shame.  Thus  does  he  describe  the  siege  in  which  he  played 
so  important  a  part: — 

"  They  were  not  ashamed  to  publish,  in  sundry  languages 
in  print,  great  victories  in  words  which  they  pretended  to 
have  obtained  against  this  realm,  and  spread  the  same  in 
a  most  false  sort  over  all  parts  of  France,  Italy,  and  else- 
where; when,  shortly  afterward,  it  was  happily  manifested 
in  very  deed  to  all  nations,  how  their  navy,  which  they 
termed  invincible,  consisting  of  140  sail  of  ships,  not  only 
of  their  own  kingdom,  but  strengthened  with  the  greatest 
argosies,  Portugal  carracks,  Florentines,  and  large  hulks 
of  other  countries,  were  by  30  of  Her  Majesty's  own  ships 
of  war,  and  a  few  of  our  own  merchants,  by  the  wise,  valiant, 
and  advantageous  conduct  of  the  Lord  Charles  Howard,  high 
admiral  of  England,  beaten  and  shuffled  together  even  from 
the  Lizard  in  Cornwall,  first  to  Portland,  when  they  shame- 
fully left  Don  Pedro  de  Valdez  with  his  mighty  ship;  from 
Portland  to  Calais,  where  they  lost  Hugh  de  Moncado,  with 
the  galleys  of  which  he  was  captain ;  and  from  Calais,  driven 
with  squibs  from  their  anchor,  were  chased  out  of  the  sight 
of  England  round  about  Scotland  and  Ireland;  where,  for 
the  sympathy  of  their  religion,  hoping  to  find  succor  and 
assistance,  a  great  part  of  them  were  crushed  against  the 
rocks,  and  those  others  that  landed,  being  very  many  in  num- 
ber, were,  notwithstanding,  broken,  slain,  and  taken,  and  so 
sent  from  village  to  village,  coupled  in  halters  to  be  shipped 
into  England  where  Her  Majesty,  of  her  princely  and  invin- 
cible disposition,  disdained  to  put  them  to  death,  and  scorning 
either  to  retain  or  to  entertain  them,  they  were  all  sent  back 
again  to  their  countries  to  witness  and  recount  the  worthy 
achievements  of  their  invincible  and  dreadful  navy.  Of 
which  the  number  of  soldiers,  the  fearful  burden  of  their 
ships,  the  commanders'  names  of  every  squadron,  with  all 
others,  their  magazines  of  provisions,  were  put  in  print, 
as  an  army  and  navy  irresistible  and  disdaining  prevention; 


THE   GUNPOWDER   PLOT.  213 

with  all  which  their  great  and  terrible  ostentation  they  did 
not  in  all  their  sailing  round  about  England  so  much  as 
sink  or  take  one  ship,  barque,  pinnace,  or  cock-boat  of  ours, 
or  even  burn  so  much  as  one  sheep-cote  on  this  land." 


The  Gunpowder  Plot. 

A.  D.  1605. 
Samuel  R.  Gardiner. 

When  James  I,  son  of  the  unhappy  Mary  Stuart,  succeeded 
Elizabeth  on  the  English  throne  in  1603,  holding  both  England 
and  Scotland  under  his  sway,  the  English  Catholics  began  to 
hope  that  he,  the  son  of  such  a  Catholic  mother,  would  be 
favorably  disposed  toward  their  faith.  In  this  they  were 
disappointed,  and  a  number  of  desperate  Roman  Catholics  united 
in  what  is  known  as  The  Gunpowder  Plot.  Attempts  have  been 
made  to  prove  that  this  really  amounted  to  very  little,  and  was 
exaggerated  by  James'  minister,  the  Earl  of  Salisbury,  to  justify 
the  harshness  of  the  Government  toward  Catholics,  but  the 
fact  remains  that  such  a  plot  did  exist,  and  although  it  ended 
in  smoke,  it  was  intended  in  dead  earnest  to  work  the  greatest 
harm  to  one  of  the  foremost  Prostestant  nations  of  the  world. 
The  following  presentation  of  the  matter  is  by  the  standard 
English  historian,  Gardiner,  who  confines  the  account  almost 
wholly  to  Fawkes'  own  confessions. 

"  Early  in  1604,  the  three  men,  Robert  Catesby,  John 
Wright,  and  Thomas  Winter,  meeting  in  a  house  at  Lambeth, 
resolved  on  a  Powder  Plot,  though,  of  course,  only  in  out- 
line. By  April  they  had  added  to  their  number  Wright's 
brother-in-law,  Thomas  Percy,  and  Guy  Fawkes,  a  Yorkshire 
man  of  respectable  family,  but  actually  a  soldier  of  fortune, 
serving  in  the  Spanish  army  in  the  Low  Countries,  who  was 
specially  brought  over  to  England  as  a  capable  and  resolute 
man.  Later  on  they  enlisted  Wright's  brother  Christopher, 
Winter's  brother  Robert,  Robert  Keyes,  and  a  few  more ;  but 
all,  with  the  exception  of  Thomas  Bates,  Catesby's  servant, 
were  men  of  family  and  for  the  most  part  of  competent  for- 
tune, though  Keyes  is  said  to  have  been  in  straitened  circum- 
stances, and  Catesby  to  have  been  impoverished  by  a  heavy 
fine  levied  on  him  as  a  recusant. 

"  Percy,  a  second  cousin  of  the  Earl  of  Northumberland^ 


214  THE   VOICE  OF    HISTORY. 

then  captain  of  the  Gentlemen  Pensioners,  was  admitted  by 
him  into  that  body  in — it  is  said — an  irregular  manner,  his 
relationship  to  the  Earl  passing  in  lieu  of  the  usual  oath  of 
fidelity.  The  position  gave  him  some  authority  and  license 
near  the  court,  and  enabled  him  to  hire  a  house,  or  part  of 
a  house,  adjoining  the  House  of  Lords.  From  the  cellar  of 
this  house  they  proposed  to  burrow  under  the  House  of 
Lords,  to  place  there  a  large  quantity  of  powder,  and  to 
blow  up  the  whole  place  when  the  King  and  his  family  were 
there  assembled  at  the  opening  of  Parliament.  On  December 
II,  1604,  they  began  to  dig  in  the  cellar,  and  after  a  fort- 
night's labor,  having  come  to  a  thick  wall,  they  left  off  work 
and  separated  for  Christmas. 

"  Early  in  January  they  began  at  the  wall,  which  they 
found  to  be  extremely  hard,  so  that,  after  working  for  about 
two  months,  they  had  not  got  more  than  half  way  through 
it.  They  then  learned  that  a  cellar  actually  under  the  House 
of  Lords,  and  used  as  a  coal  cellar,  was  to  be  let;  and  as 
it  was  most  suitable  for  their  design,  Percy  hired  it  as 
though  for  his  own  use.  The  digging  was  stopped,  and 
powder,  to  the  amount  of  thirty-six  barrels,  was  brought  into 
the  cellar,  where  it  was  stored  under  heaps  of  coal  or  fire- 
wood, and  so  remained,  under  the  immediate  care  of  Guy 
Fawkes,  till,  on  the  night  of  November  4,  1605 — the  opening 
of  Parliament  being  fixed  for  the  next  day — Sir  Thomas 
Knyvet,  with  a  party  of  men,  was  ordered  to  examine  the 
cellar.  He  met  Fawkes  coming  out  of  it,  arrested  him, 
and  on  a  close  search  found  the  powder,  of  which  a  mysteri- 
ous warning  had  been  conveyed  to  Lord  Monteagle  a  few  days 
before.  On  the  news  of  this  discovery  the  conspirators 
scattered,  but  by  different  roads  rejoined  each  other  in  War- 
wickshire, whence,  endeavoring  to  raise  the  country,  they 
rode  through  Worcestershire,  and  were  finally  shot  or  taken 
prisoners  at  Holbeche  in  Staffordshire." 

It  is  this  traditional  story  that  I  now  propose  to  com- 
pare with  the  evidence.  First  of  all,  let  us  restrict  our- 
selves to  the  story  told  by  Guy  Fawkes  himself  in  the  five 
examinations  to  which  he  was  subjected  previously  to  his 
being  put  to  the  torture  on  November  9,  and  to  the  letters, 
proclamations,  etc.,  issued  by  the  Government  during  the 
four  days  commencing  with  the  5th.  From  these  we  learn, 


THE  GUNPOWDER   PLOT.  215 

not  only  that  Fawkes'  account  of  the  matter  gradually  de- 
veloped, but  that  the  knowledge  of  the  Government  also 
developed;  a  fact  which  fits  in  very  well  with  the  "traditional 
story,"  but  which  is  hardly  to  be  expected  if  the  Government 
account  of  the  affair  was  cut-and-dried  from  the  first. 

Fawkes'  first  examination  took  place  on  November  5,  and 
was  conducted  by  Chief-Justice  Popham  and  Attorney-Gen- 
eral Coke.  It  is  true  that  only  a  copy  has  reached  us,  but 
it  is  a  copy  taken  for  Coke's  use,  as  is  shown  by  the  headings 
of  each  paragraph  inserted  in  the  margin  in  his  own  hand. 
It  is  therefore  out  of  the  question  that  Salisbury,  if  he  had 
been  so  minded,  would  have  been  able  to  falsify  it.  Each 
page  has  the  signature  (in  copy)  of  "Jhon  Jhonson,"  the 
name  by  which  Fawkes  chose  to  be  known. 

The  first  part  of  the  examination  turns  upon  Fawkes' 
movements  abroad,  showing  that  the  Government  had  already 
acquired  information  that  he  had  been  beyond  seas.  Fawkes 
showed  no  reluctance  to  speak  of  his  own  proceedings  in  the 
Low  Countries,  or  to  give  the  names  of  persons  he  had  met 
there,  and  who  were  beyond  the  reach  of  his  examiners.  As 
to  his  movements  after  his  return  to  England,  he  was  ex- 
plicit enough  so  far  as  he  was  himself  concerned,  and  also 
about  Percy,  whose  servant  he  professed  himself  to  be,  and 
whose  connection  with  the  hiring  of  the  house  could  not  be 
concealed. 

Fawkes  stated  that  after  coming  back  to  England  he 
"  came  to  the  lodging  near  the  Upper  House  of  Parliament," 
and  "that  Percy  hired  the  house  of  Whynniard  for  £12 
rent,  about  a  year  and  a  half  ago" ;  that  his  master,  before 
his  own  going  abroad,  «'.  e.,  before  Easter,  1605,  "  lav  *n  tne 
house  about  three  or  four  times."  Further,  he  confessed 
"that  about  Christmas  last,"  ». e., Christmas,  1604,  "he  brought 
in  the  night-time  gunpowder  [to  the  cellar  under  the  Upper 
House  of  Parliament]."  Afterward  he  told  how  he  covered 
the  powder  with  fagots,  intending  to  blow  up  the  King  and 
the  Lords;  and,  being  pressed  how  he  knew  that  the  King 
would  be  in  the  House  on  the  5th,  said  he  knew  it  only  from 
general  report,  and  by  the  making  ready  of  the  King's  barge ; 
but  he  would  have  "  blown  up  the  Upper  House  whensoever 
the  King  was  there." 

He    further    acknowledged    that    there    was    more    than 


316  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

one  person  concerned  in  the  conspiracy,  and  said  he  himself 
had  promised  not  to  reveal  it,  but  denied  that  he  had  taken  the 
Sacrament  on  his  promise.  Where  the  promise  was  given  he 
could  not  remember,  except  that  it  was  in  England.  He  re- 
fused to  accuse  his  partners,  saying  that  he  himself  had  pro- 
vided the  powder,  and  defrayed  the  cost  of  his  journey  beyond 
sea,  which  was  only  undertaken  "  to  see  the  country  and  to 
pass  away  the  time."  When  he  went,  he  locked  up  the  powder 
and  took  the  key  with  him,  and  "  one  Gibbons'  wife,  who 
dwells  thereby,  had  the  charge  of  the  residue  of  the  house." 

Such  is  that  part  of  the  story  told  by  Fawkes  which  con- 
cerns us  at  present.  It  is  obvious  that  Fawkes,  who,  as  sub- 
sequent experience  shows,  was  no  coward,  had  made  up  his 
mind  to  shield  as  far  as  possible  his  confederates,  and  to  take 
the  whole  of  the  blame  upon  himself.  He  says,  for  instance, 
that  Percy  had  only  lain  in  the  house  for  three  or  four  day» 
before  Easter,  1605,  a  statement,  as  subsequent  evidence 
proved,  quite  untrue ;  he  pretends  not  to  know,  except  from 
rumor  and  the  preparation  of  the  barge,  that  the  King  was 
coming  to  the  House  of  Lords  on  the  5th,  a  statement  almost 
certainly  untrue.  In  order  not  to  criminate  others,  and 
especially  any  priest,  he  denies  having  taken  the  Sacrament 
on  his  promise,  which  is  also  untrue. 

What  is  more  noticeable  is  that  he  makes  no  mention  of 
the  mine,  about  which  so  much  was  afterward  heard,  evi- 
dently— so  at  least  I  read  the  evidence — because  he  did  not 
wish  to  bring  upon  the  stage  those  who  had  worked  at  it. 
If  indeed  the  passage  which  I  have  placed  in  square  brackets 
be  accepted  as  evidence,  Fawkes  did  more  than  keep  silence 
upon  the  mine.  He  must  have  made  a  positive  assertion — 
soon  afterward  found  to  be  untrue — that  the  cellar  was  hired 
several  months  before  it  really  was.  This  passage  is,  how- 
ever, inserted  in  a  different  hand  from  the  rest  of  the  docu- 
ment My  own  belief  is  that  it  gives  a  correct  account  of  a 
statement  made  by  the  prisoner,  but  omitted  by  the  clerk 
who  made  the  copy  for  Coke,  and  inserted  by  some  other 
person.  Nobody  that  I  can  think  of  had  the  slightest  interest 
in  adding  the  words,  while  they  are  just  what  Fawkes  might 
be  expected  to  say  if  he  wanted  to  lead  his  examiners  off  the 
scent.  At  all  events,  even  if  these  words  be  left  out  of  ac- 


THE   GUNPOWDER    PLOT.  217 

count,  it  must  be  admitted  that  Fawkes  said  nothing  about 
the  existence  of  a  mine. 

Though  Fawkes  kept  silence  as  to  the  mine,  he  did  not 
keep  silence  on  the  desperate  character  of  the  work  on  which 
he  had  been  engaged.  "  And,"  runs  the  record,  "  he  con- 
fessed that  when  the  King  had  come  to  the  Parliament  House 
this  present  day,  and  the  Upper  House  had  been  sitting,  he 
meant  to  have  fired  the  match  and  have  fled  for  his  own 
safety  before  the  powder  had  taken  fire,  and  confesseth  that, 
if  he  had  not  been  apprehended  this  last  night,  he  had  blown 
up  the  Upper  House  when  the  King,  Lords,  Bishops,  and 
others  had  been  there,  and  saith  that  he  spake  for  (and 
provided)  those  bars  and  crows  of  iron,  some  in  one  place, 
some  in  another,  in  London,  lest  it  should  be  suspected,  and 
saith  that  he  had  some  of  them  in  or  about  Gracious 
Street."  Fawkes  here  clearly  takes  the  whole  terrible  de- 
sign, with  the  exception  of  the  mine,  on  his  own  shoulders. 

Commissioners  were  now  appointed  to  conduct  the  in- 
vestigation further.  They  were:  Nottingham,  Suffolk, 
Devonshire,  Worcester,  Northampton,  Salisbury,  Mar,  and 
Popham,  with  Attorney-General  Coke  in  attendance.  This 
was  hardly  a  body  of  men  who  would  knowingly  cover  an 
intrigue  of  Salisbury's.  Worcester  is  always  understood 
to  have  been  professedly  a  Catholic;  Northampton  was  cer- 
tainly one,  though  he  attended  the  King's  service,  while 
Suffolk  was  friendly  toward  the  Catholics;  and  Nottingham, 
if  he  is  no  longer  to  be  counted  among  them,  was  at  least 
not  long  afterward  a  member  of  the  party  which  favored 
an  alliance  with  Spain,  and  therefore  a  policy  of  tolera- 
tion towards  the  Catholics. 

Before  five  of  these  commissioners — Nottingham,  Suffolk, 
Devonshire,  Northampton,  and  Salisbury — Fawkes  was  ex- 
amined for  a  second  time  on  the  forenoon  of  the  6th.  In 
some  way  the  Government  had  found  out  that  Percy  had  had 
a  new  door  made  in  the  wall  leading  to  the  cellar,  and  they 
now  drew  from  Fawkes  an  untrue  statement  that  it  was  put 
in  about  the  middle  of  Lent,  that  is  to  say,  early  in  March, 
1605.  They  had  also  discovered  a  pair  of  brewer's  slings, 
by  which  barrels  were  usually  carried  between  two  men, 
and  they  pressed  Fawkes  hard  to  say  who  was  his  partner  in 
removing  the  barrels  of  gunpowder.  He  began  by  denying 


218  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

that  he  had  had  a  partner  at  all,  but  finally  answered  that 
"  he  cannot  discover  the  party,  but  " — i.  e.,  lest — "  he  shall 
bring  him  in  question."  He  also  said  that  he  had  forgotten 
where  he  slept  on  Wednesday,  Thursday,  or  Friday  in  the 
week  before  his  arrest. 

Upon  this  James  himself  intervened,  submitting  to  the 
Commissioners  a  series  of  questions  with  the  object  of 
drawing  out  of  the  prisoner  a  true  account  of  himself  and  of 
his  relations  to  Percy.  A  letter  had  been  found  on  Fawkes 
when  he  was  taken,  directed  not  to  Johnson,  but  to  Fawkes, 
and  this  among  other  things  had  raised  the  King's  sus- 
picions. In  his  third  examination,  on  the  afternoon  of  the 
6th,  in  the  presence  of  Northampton,  Devonshire,  Notting- 
ham, and  Salisbury,  Fawkes  -gave  a  good  deal  of  information, 
more  or  less  true,  about  himself;  and,  while  still  maintaining 
that  his  real  name  was  Johnson,  said  that  the  letter,  which 
was  written  by  a  Mrs.  Bostock  in  Flanders,  was  addressed 
to  him  by  another  name  "  because  he  called  himself  Fawkes," 
that  is  to  say,  because  he  had  acquired  the  name  of  Fawkes 
as  an  alias. 

"  If  he  will  not  otherwise  confess,"  the  King  had  ended 
by  saying,  "  the  gentler  tortures  are  to  be  first  used  unto 
him,  et  sic  per  gradus  ad  ima  tenditur." 


Some  little  information,  indeed,  was  coming  in  from 
other  witnesses.  In  his  first  examination,  on  November  5, 
Fawkes  had  stated  that  in  his  absence  he  locked  up  the 
powder,  and  "  one  Gibbons'  wife,  who  dwells  thereby,  had 
the  charge  of  the  residue  of  the  house."  An  examination 
of  her  husband  on  the  5th,  however,  only  elicited  that  he, 
being  a  porter,  had  with  two  others  carried  three  thousand 
billets  into  the  vault.  On  the  6th,  Ellen,  the  wife  of  Andrew 
Bright,  stated  that  Percy's  servant  had,  about  the  beginning 
of  March,  asked  her  to  let  the  vault  to  his  master,  and  that 
she  had  consented  to  abandon  her  tenancy  of  it  if  Mrs. 
Whynniard,  from  whom  she  held  it,  would  consent.  Mrs. 
Whynniard's  consent  having  been  obtained,  Mrs.  Bright, 
or  rather  Mrs.  Skinner — she  being  a  widow  remarried  sub- 
sequently to  Andrew  Bright — received  two  pounds  for 
giving  up  the  premises. 


THE   GUNPOWDER   PLOT.  219 

The  important  point  in  this  evidence  is  that  the  date  of 
March,  1605,  given  as  that  on  which  Percy  entered  into 
possession  of  the  cellar,  showed  that  Fawkes'  statement  that 
he  had  brought  powder  into  the  cellar  at  Christmas,  1604, 
could  not  possibly  be  true.  On  the  7th  Mrs.  Whynniard 
confirmed  Mrs.  Bright's  statement,  and  also  stated  that,  a 
year  earlier,  in  March,  1604,  "  Mr.  Percy  began  to  labor 
very  earnestly  with  this  examinate  and  her  husband  to  have 
the  lodging  by  the  Parliament  House,  which  one  Mr.  Henry 
Ferris,  of  Warwickshire,  had  long  held  before,  and,  having 
obtained  the  said  Mr.  Ferris'  good-will  to  part  from  it 
after  long  suit  by  himself  and  great  entreaty  of  Mr. 
Carleton,  Mr.  Epsley,  and  other  gentlemen  belonging  to  the 
Earl  of  Northumberland,  affirming  him  to  be  a  very  honest 
gentleman,  and  that  they  could  not  have  a  better  tenant, 
her  husband  and  she  were  contented  to  let  him  have  the 
said  lodging  at  the  same  rent  Mr.  Ferris  paid  for  it." 

Mrs.  Whynniard  had  plainly  never  heard  of  the  mine; 
and  that  the  Government  was  in  equal  ignorance  is  shown 
by  the  indorsement  on  the  agreement  of  Ferris — or  rather 
Ferres — to  make  over  his  tenancy  to  Percy — "  The  bargain 
between  Ferris  and  Percy  for  the  bloody  cellar,  found  in 
Winter's  lodging."  Winter's  name  had  been  under  con- 
sideration for  some  little  time,  and  doubtless  the  discovery 
of  this  paper  was  made  on,  or  more  probably  before,  the  7th. 
The  Government,  having  as  yet  nothing  but  Fawkes'  evi- 
dence to  go  upon,  connected'  the  hiring  of  the  house  with 
the  hiring  of  the  cellar,  and  at  least  showed  no  signs  of 
suspecting  anything  more. 

On  the  same  day,  the  7th,  something  was  definitely  heard 
of  the  proceedings  of  the  other  plotters,  who  had  either 
gathered  at  the  Dunchurch  for  the  hunting-match,  or  had 
fled  from  London  to  join  them,  and  a  proclamation  was  issued 
for  the  arrest  of  Percy,  Catesby,  Rokewood,  Thomas  Winter, 
Edward  Grant,  John  and  Christopher  Wright,  and  Catesby's 
servant,  Robert  Ashfield.  They  were  charged  with  assembling 
in  troops  in  the  counties  of  Warwick  and  Worcester,  break- 
ing into  stables  and  seizing  horses.  Fawkes,  too,  was  on  that 
day  subjected  to  a  fourth  examination.  Not  very  much  that 
was  new  was  extracted  from  him.  He  acknowledged  that 
his  real  name  was  Guy  Fawkes,  that — which  he  had  denied 


220  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

before — he  had  received  the  Sacrament  not  to  discover  any 
of  the  conspirators,  and  also  that  there  had  been  at  first 
five  persons  privy  to  the  plot,  and  afterward  five  or  six 
more  "  were  generally  acquainted  that  an  action  was  to  be 
performed  for  the  Catholic  cause,  and  saith  that  he  doth 
not  know  that  they  were  acquainted  with  the  whole  con- 
spiracy." Being  asked  whether  Catesby,  the  two  Wrights, 
Winter,  or  Tresham,  were  privy,  he  refused  to  accuse  any 
one. 

That  Fawkes  had  already  been  threatened  with  torture  is 
known,  and  it  may  easily  be  imagined  that  the  threats  had  been 
redoubled  after  this  last  unsatisfactory  acknowledgment.  On 
the  morning  of  the  8th,  however,  Waad,  who  was  employed 
to  worm  out  his  secrets,  reported  that  little  was  to  be  ex- 
pected. "  I  find  this  fellow,"  he  wrote,  "  who  this  day  is  in 
a  most  stubborn  and  perverse  humor,  as  dogged  as  if  he 
were  possessed.  Yesternight  I  had  persuaded  him  to  set 
down  a  clear  narration  of  all  his  wicked  plots  from  the 
first  entering  to  the  same,  to  the  end  they  pretended,  with 
the  discourses  and  projects  that  were  thought  up  amongst 
them,  which  he  undertook  (to  do)  and  craved  time  this  night 
to  bethink  him  the  better ;  but  this  morning  he  hath  changed 
his  mind  and  is  (so)  sullen  and  obstinate  as  there  is  no  deal- 
ing with  him." 

The  sight  of  the  examiners,  together  with  the  sight  of  the 
rack,  changed  Fawkes'  mind  to  some  extent.  He  was  re- 
solved that  nothing  but  actual  torture  should  ring  from  him 
the  names  of  his  fellow-plotters,  who,  so  far  as  was  known 
in  London,  were  still  at  large.  He  prepared  himself,  however, 
to  reveal  the  secrets  of  the  plot  so  far  as  was  consistent 
with  the  concealment  of  the  names  of  those  concerned  in  it. 
His  fifth  examination,  on  the  8th,  the  last  before  the  one 
taken  under  torture  on  the  9th,  gives  to  the  inquirer  into 
the  reality  of  the  plot  all  that  he  wants  to  know. 

"  He  confesseth,"  so  the  tale  begins,  "  that  a  practice 
was  first  broken  unto  him  against  His  Majesty  for  the  Cath- 
olic cause,  and  not  invented  or  propounded  by  himself,  and 
this  was  first  propounded  unto  him  about  Easter  last  was 
twelvemonth,  beyond  the  seas  in  the  Low  Countries,  by  an 
English  layman,  and  that  Englishman  came  over  with  him 
in  his  company  into  England,  and  they  two  and  three  more 


THE   GUNPOWDER   PLOT.  221 

were  the  first  five  mentioned  in  the  former  examination.  And 
they  five  resolving  to  do  somewhat  for  the  Catholic  cause 
(a  vow  being  first  taken  by  all  of  them  for  secrecy),  one 
of  the  other  three  propounded  to  perform  it  with  powder,  and 
resolved  that  the  place  should  be  (where  this  action  should 
be  performed  and  justice  done)  in  or  near  the  place  of  the 
sitting  of  the  Parliament,  wherein  religion  had  been  unjustly 
suppressed.  This  being  resolved,  the  manner  of  it  was  as 
followeth : 

"  First  they  hired  the  house  at  Westminster,  of  one  Ferres, 
and  having  his  house,  they  sought  them  to  make  a  mine 
tinder  the  Upper  House  of  Parliament,  and  they  began  to 
make  the  mine  in  or  about  the  nth  of  December,  and  they 
five  first  entered  into  the  works,  and  soon  after  took  an  other 
to  them,  having  first  sworn  him  and  taken  the  sacrament 
of  secrecy;  and  when  they  came  to  the  wall  (that  was  about 
three  yards  thick)  and  found  it  a  matter  of  great  difficulty, 
they  took  to  them  an  other  in  like  manner,  with  oath  and 
Sacrament,  as  aforesaid;  all  which  seven  were  gentlemen  of 
name  and  blood,  and  not  any  was  employed  in  or  about  this 
action  (no,  not  so  much  as  in  digging  and  mining)  that  was 
not  a  gentleman. 

"  And  having  wrought  to  the  wall  before  Christmas,  they 
ceased  until  after  the  holidays,  and  the  day  before  Christ- 
mas (having  a  mass  of  earth  that  came  out  of  the  mine)  they 
carried  it  into  the  garden  of  the  said  house,  and  after  Christ- 
mas they  wrought  the  wall  till  Candlemas,  and  wrought  the 
wall  half  through;  and  saith  that  all  the  time  while  the  other 
wrought,  he  stood  as  sentinel  to  decry  any  man  that  came 
near ;  and  when  any  man  came  near  to  the  place,  upon  warn- 
ing given  by  him  they  ceased  until  they  had  notice  to  pro- 
ceed from  him;  and  sayeth  that  they  seven  all  lay  in  the 
house,  and  had  shot  and  powder,  and  they  all  resolved  to 
die  in  that  place  before  they  yielded  or  were  taken. 

"  And,  as  they  were  working,  they  heard  a  rushing  in  the 
cellar,  which  grew  by  one  Bright's  selling  of  his  coals,  where- 
upon this  examinant,  fearing  they  had  been  discovered,  went 
into  the  cellar  and  viewed  the  cellar,  and  perceiving  the 
commodity  thereof  for  their  purpose,  and  understanding  how 
it  would  be  letten.  his  master,  Mr.  Percy,  hired  the  cellar  for 
a  year  for  £4  rent;  and  confesseth  that  after  Christmas 


222  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

twenty  barrels  of  powder  were  brought  by  themselves  to  a 
house,  which  they  had  on  the  bank  side,  in  hampers,  and 
from  that  house  removed  the  powder  to  the  said  house  near 
the  Upper  House  of  Parliament;  and,  presently,  upon  hiring 
the  cellar,  they  themselves  removed  the  powder  into  the 
cellar,  and  covered  the  same  with  fagots  which  they  had  be- 
fore laid  into  the  cellar. 

"  After,  about  Easter,  he  went  into  the  Low  Countries  (as 
he  before  hath  declared  in  his  former  examination),  and  that 
the  true  purpose  of  his  going  over  was,  lest,  being  a  danger- 
ous man,  he  should  be  known  and  suspected,  and  in  the 
mean  time  he  left  the  key  of  the  cellar  with  Mr.  Percy,  who 
in  his  absence  caused  more  billets  to  be  laid  into  the  cellar, 
as  in  his  former  examination  he  confessed,  and  returned 
about  the  end  of  August,  or  the  beginning  of  September,  and 
went  again  to  the  said  house,  near  to  the  said  cellar,  and  re- 
ceived the  key  of  the  cellar  again  of  one  of  the  five,  and  then 
they  brought  in  five  or  six  barrels  of  powder  more  into  the 
cellar,  which  also  they  covered  with  billets,  saving  four  little 
barrels  covered  with  fagots,  and  then  this  examinant  went 
into  the  country  about  the  end  of  September. 

"It  appeareth  the  powder  was  in  the  cellar  placed  as  it 
was  found  the  5th  of  November,  when  the  Lords  came  to 
prorogue  the  Parliament,  and  sayeth  that  he  returned  again 
to  the  said  house  near  the  cellar  on  Wednesday,  the  3Oth  of 
October. 

"  He  confesseth  he  was  at  the  Earl  of  Montgomery's  mar- 
riage, but,  as  he  sayeth,  with  no  intention  of  evil,  having  a 
sword  about  him,  and  was  very  near  to  His  Majesty  and  the 
Lords  there  present. 

"  Forasmuch  as  they  knew  not  well  how  they  should 
come  by  the  person  of  the  Duke  Charles,  being  near  London, 
where  they  had  no  forces  (if  he  had  not  been  also  blown  up), 
he  confesseth  that  it  was  resolved  among  them  that  the  same 
day  that  this  detestable  act  should  have  been  performed,  the 
same  day  should  other  of  their  confederacy  have  surprised 
the  person  of  the  Lady  Elizabeth,  and  presently  have  pro- 
claimed her  Queen,  to  which  purpose  a  proclamation  was 
drawn,  as  well  to  avow  and  justify  the  action  as  to  have  pro- 
tested against  the  Union,  and  in  no  sort  to  have  meddled  with 
religion  therein,  and  would  have  protested  also  against  all 


THE   GUNPOWDER    PLOT.  223 

strangers,  and  this  proclamation  should  have  been  made  in 
the  name  of  the  Lady  Elizabeth. 

"  Being  demanded  why  they  did  not  surprise  the  King's 
person,  and  draw  him  to  the  effecting  of  their  purpose, 
sayeth  that  so  many  must  have  been  acquainted  with  such 
an  action  as  it  would  not  have  been  kept  secret. 

"  He  confesseth  that  if  their  purpose  had  taken  effect, 
until  they  had  had  power  enough,  they  would  not  have  avowed 
the  deed  to  be  theirs;  but  if  their  power  (for  their  defense 
and  safety)  had  been  sufficient,  they  themselves  would  then 
have  taken  it  upon  them.  They  meant  also  to  have  sent  for 
the  prisoners  in  the  Tower  to  have  come  to  them,  of  whom 
particularly  they  had  some  consultation. 

"  He  confesseth  that  the  place  of  rendezvous  was  in  War- 
wickshire, and  that  armor  was  sent  thither,  but  the  particular 
thereof  he  knows  not. 

"  He  confesseth  that  they  had  consultation  for  the  taking 
of  the  Lady  Mary  into  their  possession,  but  knew  not  how 
to  come  by  her. 

"  And  confesseth  that  provision  was  made  by  some  of  the 
conspiracy  of  some  armor  of  proof  this  last  summer  for 
this  action. 

"  He  confesseth  that  the  powder  was  bought  by  the  com- 
mon purse  of  the  confederates. 

"  L.  Admiral  (Earl  of  Nottingham)  Earl  of  Salisbury 

"  L.  Chamberlain  (Earl  of  Suffolk)  Earl  of  Mar 

"Earl  of  Devonshire,  Lord  Chief  justice  (Popham) 

"  Earl  of  Northampton 

"Attended  by  Mr.  Attorney-General   (Coke)." 

The  Qth,  the  day  on  which  Fawkes  was  put  to  the  torture, 
brought  news  to  the  government  that  the  fear  of  insurrec- 
tion need  no  longer  be  entertained.  It  had  been  known  be- 
fore this  that  Fawkes'  confederates  had  met  on  the  5th  at 
Dunchurch  on  the  pretext  of  a  hunting-match,  and  had  been 
breaking  open  houses  in  Warwickshire  and  Worcestershire  in 
order  to  collect  arms.  Yet  so  indefinite  was  the  knowledge 
of  the  council  that,  on  the  8th,  they  offered  a  reward  for  the 
apprehension  of  Percy  alone,  without  including  any  of  the 
other  conspirators.  On  the  evening  of  the  9th  they  received 
a  letter  from  Sir  Richard  Walsh,  the  Sheriff  of  Wor- 
cestershire. 


224  THE   VOICE  OF    HISTORY. 

"  We  think  fit,"  he  wrote,  "  with  all  speed  to  certify  your 
Lordships  of  the  happy  success  it  hath  pleased  God  to  give 
us  against  the  rebellious  assembly  in  these  parts.  After 
such  time  as  they  had  taken  the  horses  from  Warwick  upon 
Tuesday  night  last,  they  came  to  Mr.  Robert  Winter's  house 
to  Huddington  upon  Wednesday  night,  where — having 
entered — (they)  armed  themselves  at  all  points  in  open  re- 
bellion. They  passed  from  thence  upon  Thursday  morning 
unto  Hewell — the  Lord  Windsor's  house — which  they  en- 
tered and  took  from  thence  by  force  great  store  of  armor, 
artillery  of  the  said  Lord  Windsor's,  and  passed  that  night 
into  the  county  of  Staffordshire  unto  the  house  of  one 
Stephen  Littleton,  Gentleman,  called  Holbeche,  about  two 
miles  distant  from  Stourbridge,  whither  we  pursued,  with 
the  assistance  of  Sir  John  Foliot,  Knight;  Francis  Ketelsby, 
Esquire;  Humphrey  Salway,  Gentleman;  Edmund  Walsh 
and  Francis  Conyers,  Gentlemen,  with  few  other  gentlemen 
and  the  power  and  face  of  the  country. 

"  We  made  against  them  upon  Thursday  morning,  and 
freshly  pursued  them  until  the  next  day,  at  which  time,  about 
twelve  or  one  of  the  clock  in  the  afternoon,  we  overtook 
them  at  the  said  Holbeche  House — the  greatest  part  of  their 
retinue  and  some  of  the  better  sort  being  dispersed  and  fled 
before  our  coming,  whereupon  and  after  summons  and  warn- 
ing first  given  and  proclamation  in  his  Highness's  name  to 
yield  and  submit  themselves — who  refusing  the  same,  we 
fired  some  part  of  the  house  and  assaulted  some  part  of  the 
rebellious  persons  left  in  the  said  house,  in  which  assault  one 
Mr.  Robert  Catesby  is  slain,  and  three  others  verily  thought 
wounded  to  death  whose  names — as  far  as  we  can  learn — 
are  Thomas  Percy,  Gentleman;  John  Wright;  and  Christo- 
pher Wright,  Gentleman;  and  these  are  apprehended  and 
taken:  Thomas  Winter,  Gentleman;  John  Grant,  Gentleman; 
Henry  Morgan,  Gentleman;  Ambrose  Rokewood,  Gentleman; 
Thomas  Ockley,  carpenter;  Edmund  Townsend,  servant  to 
the  said  John  Grant ;  Nicholas  Pelborrow,  servant  unto  the 
said  Ambrose  Rokewood ;  Edward  Ockley,  carpenter ;  Rich- 
ard Townsend,  servant  to  the  said  Robert  Winter;  Richard 
Day,  servant  to  the  said  Stephen  Littleton,  which  said  pris- 
oners are  in  safe  custody  here,  and  so  shall  remain  until 
your  Honors'  good  pleasures  be  further  known.  The  rest 


THE   ASSASSINATION    OF   WILLIAM    THE   SILENT.      228 

of  that  rebellious  assembly  is  dispersed,  we  have  caused  to 
be  followed  with  fresh  suite  and  hope  of  their  speedy  ap- 
prehension. We  have  also  thought  fit  to  send  unto  your 
Honors — according  unto  our  duties — such  letters  as  we  have 
found  about  the  parties  apprehended;  and  so  resting  in  all 
duty  at  your  Honors'  further  command,  we  take  leave,  from 
Stourbridge  this  Saturday  morning,  being  the  sixth  of  this 
instant  November,  1605. 

"  Your  Honors'  most  humble  to  be  commanded, 

"RICH.  WALSH." 


The  Assassination  of  William  the  Silent 

Motley's  Dutch  Republic. 

This  is  one  of  the  best  chapters  from  the  great  American's 
superb  history.  The  style  is  clear,  vivid,  and  eloquent ;  with 
that  stateliness  which  is  in  harmony  with  the  subject,  and  does 
not  for  a  moment  detract  from  the  energy  of  the  author^ 
thought. 

In  this  chapter  we  have  another  instance  of  the  pernicious 
influence  of  the  Church  of  Rome  upon  the  minds  of  those  who 
are  foolish  enough  to  entrust  their  souls  to  the  care  of  her 
priests.  These  men  often  have  less  fear  of  God  than  a  criminal, 
and  know  less  of  right  and  wrong  than  many  a  heathen.  We 
see  from  it  that  an  entirely  uninstructed  conscience,  weak  as  it 
is,  is  nevertheless  to  be  preferred  to  one  that  has  been  system- 
atically corrupted  by  endless  repetition  of  the  grossest  errors. 

In  the  summer  of  1584,  William  of  Orange  was  residing 
at  Delft,  where  his  wife,  Ixmisa  de  Coligny,  had  given  birth, 
in  the  preceding  winter,  to  a  son,  afterwards  the  celebrated 
stadholder,  Frederic  Henry.  The  child  had  received  these 
names  from  his  two  godfathers,  the  Kings  of  Denmark  and 
of  Navarre,  and  his  baptism  had  been  celebrated  with  much 
rejoicing  on  the  I2th  of  June,  in  the  place  of  his  birth. 

It  was  a  quiet,  cheerful,  yet  somewhat  drowsy  little  city, 
that  ancient  burgh  of  Delft.  The  placid  canals  by  which  it 
was  intersected  in  every  direction  were  all  planted  with 
whispering,  umbrageous  rows  of  limes  and  poplars,  and  along 
these  watery  highways  the  traffic  of  the  place  glided  so  noise- 
lessly that  the  town  seemed  the  abode  of  silence  and  tran- 
quillity. The  streets  were  clean  and  airy,  the  houses  we! 
built,  the  whole  aspect  of  the  place  thriving. 
15 


226  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

One  of  the  principal  thoroughfares  was  called  the  old 
Delft  street.  It  was  shaded  on  both  sides  by  lime  trees,  which 
in  that  midsummer  season  covered  the  surface  of  the  canal 
which  flowed  between  them  with  their  light  and  fragrant 
blossoms.  On  one  side  of  this  street  was  the  "  old  kirk,"  a 
plain,  antique  structure  of  brick,  with  lancet  windows  and 
with  a  tall,  slender  tower,  which  inclined,  at  a  very  consid- 
erable angle,  towards  a  house  upon  the  other  side  of  the 
canal.  That  house  was  the  mansion  of  William  the  Silent. 
It  stood  directly  opposite  the  church,  being  separated  by  a 
spacious  courtyard  from  the  street,  while  the  stables  and  other 
offices  in  the  rear  extended  to  the  city  wall.  A  narrow  lane, 
opening  out  of  Delft  street,  ran  along  the  side  of  the  house 
and  court,  in  the  direction  of  the  ramparts.  The  house  was 
a  plain,  two-storied  edifice  of  brick,  with  red-tiled  roof,  and 
had  formerly  been  a  cloister  dedicated  to  Saint  Agatha,  the 
last  prior  of  which  had  been  hanged  by  the  furious  Lumey  de 
la  Marck. 

The  news  of  Anjou's  death  had  been  brought  to  Delft 
by  a  special  messenger  from  the  French  court.  On  Sunday 
morning,  the  8th  of  July,  1584,  the  Prince  of  Orange,  having 
read  the  dispatches  before  leaving  his  bed,  caused  the  man 
who  had  brought  them  to  be  summoned,  that  he  might  give 
some  particular  details  by  word  of  mouth  concerning  the 
last  illness  of  the  Duke.  The  courier  was  accordingly  ad- 
mitted to  the  Prince's  bed-chamber,  and  proved  to  be  one 
Francis  Guion,  as  he  called  himself.  This  man  had,  early 
in  the  spring,  claimed  and  received  the  protection  of  Orange, 
on  the  ground  of  being  the  son  of  a  Protestant  at  Besanqon, 
who  had  suffered  death  for  his  religion,  and  of  his  own 
ardent  attachment  to  the  Reformed  faith.  A  pious,  psalm- 
singing,  thoroughly  Calvinistic  youth  he  seemed  to  be,  hav- 
ing a  Bible  or  a  hymn-book  under  his  arm  whenever  he 
walked  the  street,  and  most  exemplary  in  his  attendance  at 
sermon  and  lecture.  For  the  rest,  a  singularly  unobtrusive 
personage,  twenty-seven  years  of  age,  low  of  stature,  meager, 
mean-visaged,  muddy  complexioned,  and  altogether  a  man 
of  no  account — quite  insignificant  in  the  eyes  of  all  who 
looked  upon  him.  If  there  were  one  opinion  in  which  the 
few  who  had  taken  the  trouble  to  think  of  the  puny,  some- 
what shambling  stranger  from  Burgundy  at  all  coincided, 


THE   ASSASSINATION   OF   WILLIAM    THE  SILENT.      227 

it  was  that  he  was  inoffensive,  but  quite  incapable  of  any 
important  business.  He  seemed  well  educated,  claimed  to 
be  of  respectable  parentage,  and  had  considerable  facility 
of  speech,  when  any  person  could  be  found  who 'thought 
it  worth  while  to  listen  to  him ;  but  on  the  whole  he  attracted 
little  attention. 

Nevertheless,  this  insignificant  frame  locked  up  a  desper- 
ate and  daring  character;  this  mild  and  inoffensive  nature 
had  gone  pregnant  seven  years  with  a  terrible  crime,  whose 
birth  could  not  much  longer  be  retarded.  Francis  Guion, 
the  Calvinist,  son  of  a  martyred  Calvinist,  was  in  reality 
Balthazar  Gerard,  a  fanatical  Catholic,  whose  father  and 
mother  were  still  living  at  Villefans  in  Burgundy.  Before 
reaching  man's  estate,  he  had  formed  the  design  of  murder- 
ing the  Prince  of  Orange,  "  who,  so  long  as  he  lived,  seemed 
like  to  remain  a  rebel  against  the  Catholic  King,  and  to 
make  every  effort  to  disturb  the  repose  of  the  Roman  Cath- 
olic Apostolic  religion." 

When  but  twenty  years  of  age,  he  had  struck  his  dagger 
with  all  his  might  into  a  door,  exclaiming  as  he  did  so, 
"  Would  that  the  blow  had  been  in  the  heart  of  Orange !" 
For  this  he  was  rebuked  by  a  bystander,  who  told  him  it 
was  not  for  him  to  kill  princes,  and  that  it  was  not  desirable 
to  destroy  so  good  a  captain  as  the  prince,  who,  after  all, 
might  one  day  reconcile  himself  with  the  King. 

As  soon  as  the  Ban  against  Orange  was  published,  Bal- 
thazar, more  anxious  than  ever  to  execute  his  long-cherished 
design,  left  Dole  and  came  to  Luxemburg.  Here  he  learned 
that  the  deed  had  already  been  done  by  John  Jaureguy.  He 
received  this  intelligence  at  first  with  a  sensation  of  relief, 
was  glad  to  be  excused  from  putting  himself  in  danger,  and 
believing  the  Prince  dead,  took  service  as  clerk  with  one  John 
Duprel,  secretary  to  Count  Mansfeld,  governor  of  Luxem- 
burg. Ere  long,  the  ill  success  of  Jaureguy's  attempt  be- 
coming known,  the  "  inveterate  determination "  of  Gerard 
aroused  itself  more  fiercely  than  ever.  He  accordingly  took 
models  of  Mansfeld's  official  seals  in  wax,  in  order  that  he 
might  make  use  of  them  as  an  acceptable  offering  to  the 
Orange  party,  whose  confidence  he  meant  to  gain. 

Various  circumstances  detained  him,  however.  A  sun* 
of  money  was  stolen,  and  he  was  forced  to  stay  till  it  was 


228  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

found,  for  fear  of  being  arrested  as  the  thief.  Then  his 
cousin  and  employer  fell  sick,  and  Gerard  was  obliged  to 
wait  for  his  recovery.  At  last,  in  March,  1584,  "  the  weather, 
as  he  said,  appearing  to  be  fine,"  Balthazar  left  Luxemburg 
and  came  to  Treves.  While  there,  he  confided  his  scheme 
to  the  regent  of  the  Jesuit  college — a  "  red-haired  man  "  whose 
name  has  not  been  preserved.  That  dignitary  expressed  high 
approbation  of  the  plan,  gave  Gerard  his  blessing,  and  prom- 
ised him  that,  if  his  life  should  be  sacrificed  in  achieving  his 
purpose,  he  should  be  enrolled  among  the  martyrs.  Another 
Jesuit,  however,  in  the  same  college,  with  whom  he  likewise 
communicated,  held  very  different  language,  making  great 
efforts  to  turn  the  young  man  from  his  design,  on  the  ground 
of  the  inconveniences  which  might  arise  front  the  forging 
0f  Mansf eld's  seals — adding  that  neither  he  nor  any  of  the 
Jesuits  liked  to  meddle  with  such  affairs,  but  advising  that 
the  whole  matter  should  be  laid  before  the  Prince  of  Parma. 
It  does  not  appear  that  this  personage,  "  an  excellent  man 
and  a  learned,"  attempted  to  dissuade  the  young  man  from  his 
project  by  arguments  drawn  from  any  supposed  criminality 
in  the  assassination  itself,  or  from  any  danger,  temporal  or 
eternal,  to  which  the  perpetrator  might  expose  himself. 

Not  influenced,  as  it  appears,  except  on  one  point,  by  the 
advice  of  this  second  ghostly  confessor,  Balthazar  came  to 
Tournay,  and  held  council  with  a  third — the  celebrated  Fran- 
ciscan, Father  Gery — by  whom  he  was  much  comforted  and 
strengthened  in  his  determination.  His  next  step  was  to  lay 
the  project  before  Parma,  as  the  "  excellent  and  learned " 
Jesuit  at  Treves  had  advised.  This  he  did  by  a  letter,  drawn 
tip  with  much  care,  and  which  he  evidently  thought  well  of  as 
a  composition.  One  copy  of  this  letter  he  deposited  with  the 
guardian  of  the  Franciscan  convent  at  Tournay ;  the  other  he 
presented  with  his  own  hand  to  the  Prince  of  Parma.  "  The 
vassal,"  said  he,  "ought  always  to  prefer  justice  and  the  will 
of  the  king  to  his  own  life."  That  being  the  case,  he  ex- 
pressed his  astonishment  that  no  man  had  yet  been  found  to 
execute  the  sentence  against  William  of  Nassau,  "  except  the 
gentle  Biscayan,  since  defunct."  To  accomplish  the  task, 
Balthazar  observed,  very  judiciously,  that  it  was  necessary 
to  have  access  to  the  person  of  the  Prince — wherein  consisted 
the  difficulty.  Those  who  had  that  advantage,  he  continued, 


THE   ASSASSINATION    OF   WILLIAM    THE   SILENT.      229 

were  therefore  bound  to  extirpate  the  pest  at  once,  without 
obliging  his  Majesty  to  send  to  Rome  for  a  chevalier,  be- 
cause not  one  of  them  was  willing  to  precipitate  himself  into 
the  venomous  gulf,  which  by  its  contagion  infected  and  kihed 
the  souls  and  bodies  of  all  poor  abused  subjects  exposed  to 
its  influence.  Gerard  avowed  himself  to  have  been  so  long 
goaded  and  stimulated  by  these  considerations — so  extremely 
nettled  with  displeasure  and  bitterness  at  seeing  the  obstinate 
wretch  still  escaping  his  just  judgment — as  to  have  formed 
the  design  of  baiting  a  trap  for  the  fox,  hoping  thus  to  gain 
access  to  him,  and  to  take  him  unawares.  He  added — without 
explaining  the  nature  of  the  trap  and  the  bait — that  he 
deemed  it  his  duty  to  lay  the  subject  before  the  most  serene 
Prince  of  Parma,  protesting  at  the  same  time  that  he  did  not 
contemplate  the  exploit  for  the  sake  of  the  reward  mentioned 
in  the  sentence,  and  that  he  preferred  trusting  in  that  regard 
to  the  immense  liberality  of  his  Majesty. 

Parma  had  long  been  looking  for  a  good  man  to  murder 
Orange,  feeling — as  Philip,  Granvelle,  and  all  former  gov- 
ernors of  the  Netherlands  had  felt — that  this  was  the  only 
means  of  saving  the  royal  authority  in  any  part  of  the  prov- 
inces. Many  unsatisfactory  assassins  had  presented  them- 
selves from  time  to  time,  and  Alexander  had  paid  money  in 
hand  to  various  individuals — Italians,  Spaniards,  Lorrainers, 
Scotchmen,  Englishmen,  who  had  generally  spent  the  sums 
received  without  attempting  the  job.  Others  were  supposed 
to  be  still  engaged  in  the  enterprise,  and  at  that  moment 
there  were  four  persons — each  unknown  to  the  others,  and 
of  different  nations — in  the  city  of  Delft,  seeking  to  compass 
the  death  of  William  the  Silent.  Shag-eared,  military, 
hirsute  ruffians — ex-captains  of  free  companies  and  such 
marauders — were  daily  offering  their  services;  there  was  no 
lack  of  them,  and  they  had  done  but  little.  How  should 
Parma,  seeing  this  obscure,  undersized,  thin-bearded,  run- 
away clerk  before  him,  expect  pith  and  energy  from  him?  He 
thought  him  quite  unfit  for  an  enterprise  of  moment,  and 
declared  as  much  to  his  secret  councilors  and  to  the  King. 
He  soon  dismissed  him,  after  receiving  his  letters,  and  it  may 
be  supposed  that  the  bombastic  style  of  that  epistle  would  not 
efface  the  unfavorable  impression  produced  by  Balthazar's  ex- 
terior. The  representations  of  Haultepenne  and  others  in- 


230  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

duced  him  so  far  to  modify  his  views  as  to  send  his  confiden- 
tial councilor,  d'Assonleville,  to  the  stranger,  in  order  to 
learn  the  details  of  the  scheme.  Assonleville  had  accord- 
ingly an  interview  with  Gerard,  in  which  he  requested  the 
young  man  to  draw  up  a  statement  of  his  plan  in  writing,  and 
this  was  done  upon  the  nth  of  April,  1584. 

In  this  letter  Gerard  explained  his  plan  of  introducing 
himself  to  the  notice  of  Orange,  at  Delft,  as  the  son  of  an 
executed  Calvinist;  as  himself  warmly,  though  secretly,  de- 
voted to  the  Reformed  faith,  and  as  desirous,  therefore,  of 
placing  himself  in  the  Prince's  service,  in  order  to  avoid  the 
insolence  of  the  Papists.  Having  gained  the  confidence  of 
those  about  the  Prince,  he  would  suggest  to  them  the  great 
use  which  might  be  made  of  Mansfeld's  signet  in  forging 
passports  for  spies  and  other  persons  whom  it  might  be  de- 
sirous to  send  into  the  territory  of  the  royalists.  "  With  these 
or  similar  feints  and  frivolities,"  continued  Gerard,  "he 
should  soon  obtain  access  to  the  person  of  the  said  Nassau," 
repeating  his  protestation  that  nothing  had  moved  him  to  his 
enterprise  "  save  the  good  zeal  which  be  bore  to  the  faith  and 
true  religion  guarded  by  the  Holy  Mother  Church  Catholic, 
Apostolic,  and  Roman,  and  to  the  service  of  his  Majesty." 
He  begged  pardon  for  having  purloined  the  impressions  of 
the  seals — a  turpitude  which  he  would  never  have  committed, 
but  would  sooner  have  suffered  a  thousand  deaths,  except  for 
the  great  end  in  view.  He  particularly  wished  forgiveness 
for  that  crime  before  going  to  his  task,  "  in  order  that  he 
might  confess,  and  receive  the  holy  communion  at  the  coming 
Easter,  without  scruples  of  conscience."  He  likewise  begged 
the  Prince  of  Parma  to  obtain  for  him  absolution  from  his 
Holiness  for  this  crime  of  pilfering — the  more  so  "  as  he  was 
about  to  keep  company  for  some  time  with  heretics  and  athe- 
ists, and  in  some  sort  to  conform  himself  to  their  customs." 

From  the  general  tone  of  the  letters  of  Gerard,  he  might 
be  set  down  at  once  as  a  simple,  religious  fanatic,  who  felt  sure 
that,  in  executing  the  command  of  Philip  publicly  issued  to 
all  the  murderers  of  Europe,  he  was  meriting  well  of  God  and 
his  King.  There  is  no  doubt  that  he  was  an  exalted  enthu- 
siast, but  not  purely  an  enthusiast.  The  man's  character 
offers  more  than  one  point  of  interest,  as  a  psychological 
phenomenon.  He  had  convinced  himself  that  the  work  which 


THE   ASSASSINATION    OF   WILLIAM    THE   SILENT.      231 

he  had  in  hand  was  eminently  meritorious,  and  he  was  utterly 
without  fear  of  consequences.  He  was,  however,  by  no  means 
so  disinterested  as  he  chose  to  represent  himself  in  letters 
which,  as  he  instinctively  felt,  were  to  be  of  perennial  interest. 
On  the  contrary,  in  his  interviews  with  Assonleville,  he  urged 
that  he  was  a  poor  fellow,  and  that  he  had  undertaken  this 
enterprise  in  order  to  acquire  property, — to  make  himself 
rich, — and  that  he  depended  upon  the  Prince  of  Parma's 
influence  in  obtaining  the  reward  promised  by  the  Ban  to  the 
individual  who  should  put  Orange  to  death. 

This  second  letter  decided  Parma  so  far  that  he  authorized 
Assonleville  to  encourage  the  young  man  in  his  attempt,  and 
to  promise  that  the  reward  should  be  given  to  him  in  case  of 
success,  and  to  his  heirs  in  the  event  of  his  death.  Assonle- 
ville, in  the  second  interview,  accordingly  made  known  these 
assurances  in  the  strongest  manner  to  Gerard,  warning  him, 
at  the  same  time,  on  no  account,  if  arrested,  to  inculpate  the 
Prince  of  Parma.  The  councilor,  while  thus  exhorting  the 
stranger,  according  to  Alexander's  commands,  confined  him- 
self, however,  to  generalities,  refusing  even  to  advance  fifty 
crowns,  which  Balthazar  had  begged  from  the  Governor- 
General  in  order  to  provide  for  the  necessary  expenses  of 
his  project.  Parma  had  made  similar  advances  too  often 
to  men  who  had  promised  to  assassinate  the  Prince  and  had 
then  done  little,  and  he  was  resolute  in  his  refusal  to  this 
new  adventurer,  of  whom  he  expected  absolutely  nothing. 
Gerard,  notwithstanding  this  rebuff,  was  not  disheartened. 
"  I  will  provide  myself  out  of  my  own  purse,"  said  he  to 
Assonleville,  "  and  within  six  weeks  you  will  hear  of  me." 
"  Go  forth,  my  son,"  said  Assonleville,  paternally,  upon  this 
spirited  reply,  "  and  if  you  succeed  in  your  enterprise,  the 
King  will  fulfill  all  his  promises,  and  you  will  gain  an  im- 
mortal name  besides." 

The  "  inveterate  deliberation,"  thus  thoroughly  matured, 
Gerard  now  proceeded  to  carry  into  effect.  He  came  to 
Delft,  obtained  a  hearing  of  Villers,  the  clergyman  and  inti- 
mate friend  of  Orange,  showed  him  the  Mansfeld  seals,  and 
was,  somewhat  against  his  will,  sent  to  France,  to  exhibit 
them  to  Marechal  Biron,  who,  it  was  thought,  was  soon  to  be 
appointed  governor  of  Cambray.  Through  Orange's  recom- 
mendation, the  Burgundian  was  received  into  the  suite  of  Noel 


232  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

de  Caron,  Seigneur  de  Schoneval,  then  setting  forth  on  a 
special  mission  to  the  Duke  of  Anjou.  While  in  France, 
Gerard  could  rest  neither  by  day  nor  night,  so  tormented 
was  he  by  the  desire  of  accomplishing  his  project,  and  at 
length  he  obtained  permission,  upon  the  death  of  the  Duke,  to 
carry  this  important  intelligence  to  the  Prince  of  Orange. 
The  dispatches  having  been  entrusted  to  him,  he  traveled  post- 
haste to  Delft,  and,  to  his  astonishment,  the  letters  had 
hardly  been  delivered  before  he  was  summoned  in  person  to 
the  chamber  of  the  Prince.  Here  was  an  opportunity  such 
as  he  had  never  dared  to  hope  for.  The  arch-enemy  to  the 
Church  and  to  the  human  race,  whose  death  would  confer 
upon  his  destroyer  wealth  and  nobility  in  this  world,  besides 
a  crown  of  glory  in  the  next,  lay  unarmed,  alone,  in  bed,  be- 
fore the  man  who  had  thirsted  seven  long  years  for  his  blood. 

Balthazar  could  scarcely  control  his  emotions  sufficiently  to 
answer  the  questions  which  the  Prince  addressed  to  him  con- 
cerning the  death  of  Anjou,  but  Orange,  deeply  engaged  with 
the  dispatches,  and  with  the  reflections  which  their  deeply- 
important  contents  suggested,  did  not  observe  the  counte- 
nance of  the  humble  Calvinist  exile,  who  had  been  re- 
cently recommended  to  his  patronage  by  Villers.  Gerard  had, 
moreover,  made  no  preparation  for  an  interview  so  entirely 
unexpected,  had  come  unarmed,  and  had  formed  no  plan  for 
escape.  He  was  obliged  to  forego  his  prey  when  most  within 
his  reach,  and  after  communicating  all  the  information  which 
the  Prince  required,  he  was  dismissed  from  the  chamber. 

It  was  Sunday  morning,  and  the  bells  were  tolling  for 
church.  Upon  leaving  the  house,  he  loitered  about  the  court- 
yard, furtively  examining  the  premises,  so  that  a  sergeant  of 
halberdiers  asked  him  why  he  was  waiting  there.  Balthazar 
meekly  replied  that  he  was  desirous  of  attending  divine 
worship  in  the  church  opposite,  but  added,  pointing  to  his 
shabby  and  travel-stained  attire,  that,  without  at  least  a  new 
pair  of  shoes  and  stockings,  he  was  unfit  to  join  the  congre- 
gation. Insignificant  as  ever,  the  small,  pious,  dusty  stranger 
excited  no  suspicion  in  the  mind  of  the  good-natured  sergeant. 
He  forthwith  spoke  of  the  wants  of  Gerard  to  an  officer,  by 
whom  they  were  communicated  to  Orange  himself,  and  the 
Prince  instantly  ordered  a  sum  of  money  to  be  given  him. 


THE   ASSASSINATION    OF   WILLIAM    THE   STLENT.      233 

Thus  Balthazar  obtained  from  William's  charity  what  Parma's 
thrift  had  denied — a  fund  for  carrying  out  his  purpose ! 

Next  morning,  with  the  money  thus  procured,  he  purchased 
a  pair  of  pistols,  or  small  carabines,  from  a  soldier,  chaffering 
long  about  the  price  because  the  vender  could  not  supply  a 
particular  kind  of  chopped  bullets  or  slugs  which  he  desired. 
Before  the  sunset  of  the  following  day  that  soldier  had  stabbed 
himself  to  the  heart,  and  died  despairing,  on  hearing  for  what 
purpose  the  pistols  had  been  bought. 

On  Tuesday,  the  loth  of  July,  1584,  at  about  half  past 
twelve,  the  Prince,  with  his  wife  on  his  arm,  and  followed 
by  the  ladies  and  gentlemen  of  his  family,  was  going  to  the 
dining-room.  William  the  Silent  was  dressed  upon  that  day, 
according  to  his  usual  custom,  in  very  plain  fashion.  He  wore 
a  wide-leaved,  loosely-shaped  hat  of  dark  felt,  with  a  silken 
cord  round  the  crown — such  as  had  been  worn  by  the  Beggars 
in  the  early  days  of  the  revolt.  A  high  ruff  encircled  his 
neck,  from  which  also  depended  one  of  the  Beggars'  medals, 
with  the  motto,  "  Fideles  au  roy  jusqu'b  la  besace,"  while  a 
loose  surcoat  of  gray  frieze  cloth,  over  a  tawny  leather  doub- 
let, with  wide,  slashed  underclothes,  completed  his  costume. 
Gerard  presented  himself  at  the  doorway,  and  demanded  a 
passport.  The  Princess,  struck  with  the  pale  and  agitated 
countenance  of  the  man,  anxiously  questioned  her  husband 
concerning  the  stranger.  The  Prince  carelessly  observed  that 
"  it  was  merely  a  person  who  came  for  a  passport,"  ordering, 
at  the  same  time,  a  secretary  forthwith  to  prepare  one.  The 
Princess,  still  not  relieved,  observed  in  an  undertone  that 
"  she  had  never  seen  so  villainous  a  countenance."  Orange, 
however,  not  at  all  impressed  with  the  appearance  of  Gerard, 
conducted  himself  at  table  with  his  usual  cheerfulness,  con- 
versing much  with  the  burgomaster  of  Leewarden,  the  only 
guest  present  at  the  family  dinner,  concerning  the  political 
and  religious  aspects  of  Friesland.  At  two  o'clock  the 
company  rose  from  table.  The  Prince  led  the  way,  intending 
to  pass  to  his  private  apartments  above.  The  dining-room, 
which  was  on  the  ground  floor,  opened  into  a  little  square 
vestibule,  which  communicated,  through  an  arched  passage- 
way, with  the  main  entrance  into  the  courtyard.  This  vesti- 
bule was  also  directly  at  the  foot  of  the  wooden  staircase 
leading  to  the  next  floor,  and  was  scarcely  six  feet  in  width. 


234  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

Upon  its  left  side,  as  one  approached  the  stairway,  was  an 
obscure  arch,  sunk  deep  in  the  wall,  and  completely  in  the 
shadow  of  the  door.  Behind  this  arch  a  portal  opened  to  the 
narrow  lane  at  the  side  of  the  house.  The  stairs  themselves 
were  completely  lighted  by  a  large  window,  half  way  up  the 
flight.  The  Prince  came  from  the  dining-room,  and  began 
leisurely  to  ascend.  He  had  only  reached  the  second  stair, 
when  a  man  emerged  from  the  sunken  arch,  and,  standing 
within  a  foot  or  two  of  him,  discharged  a  pistol  full  at  his 
heart.  Three  balls  entered  his  body,  one  of  which,  passing 
quite  through  him,  struck  with  violence  against  the  wall 
beyond.  The  Prince  exclaimed  in  French,  as  he  felt  the 
wound,  "  O  my  God,  have  mercy  upon  my  soul !  O  my  God. 
have  mercy  upon  this  poor  people !" 

These  were  the  last  words  he  ever  spoke,  save  that  when 
his  sister,  Catherine  of  Schwartzburg,  immediately  afterwards 
asked  him  if  he  commended  his  soul  to  Jesus  Christ,  he  faintly 
answered,  "  Yes."  His  master  of  the  horse,  Jacob  van 
Maldere,  had  caught  him  in  his  arms  as  the  fatal  shot  was 
fired.  The  Prince  was  then  placed  on  the  stairs  for  an 
instant,  when  he  immediately  began  to  swoon.  He  was  after- 
wards laid  upon  a  couch  in  the  dining-room,  where  in  a  few 
minutes,  he  breathed  his  last  in  the  arms  of  his  wife  and 
sister. 

The  murderer  succeeded  in  making  his  escape  through  the 
side  door,  and  sped  swiftly  up  the  narrow  lane.  He  had 
almost  reached  the  ramparts,  from  which  he  intended  to  spring 
into  the  moat,  when  he  stumbled  over  a  heap  of  rubbish.  As 
he  rose,  he  was  seized  by  several  pages  and  halberdiers,  who 
had  pursued  him  from  the  house.  He  had  dropped  his  pistols 
upon  the  spot  where  he  had  committed  the  crime,  and  upon 
his  person  were  found  a  couple  of  bladders,  provided  with  a 
piece  of  pipe  with  which  he  had  intended  to  assist  himself 
across  the  moat,  beyond  which  a  horse  was  waiting  for  him. 
He  made  no  effort  to  deny  his  identity,  but  boldly  avowed 
himself  and  his  deed.  He  was  brought  back  to  the  house, 
where  he  immediately  underwent  a  preliminary  examination 
before  the  city  magistrates.  He  was  afterwards  subjected  to 
excruciating  tortures;  for  the  fury  against  the  wretch  who  had 
destroyed  the  Father  of  the  country  was  uncontrollable,  and 


THE   ASSASSINATION    OF   WILLIAM    THE   SILENT.      235 

William  the  Silent  was  no  longer  alive  to  intercede — as  he  had 
often  done  before — in  behalf  of  those  who  assailed  his  life. 

The  organization  of  Balthazar  Gerard  would  furnish  a 
subject  of  profound  study,  both  for  the  physiologist  and  the 
metaphysician.  Neither  wholly  a  fanatic,  nor  entirely  a 
ruffian,  he  combined  the  most  dangerous  elements  of  both 
characters.  In  his  puny  body  and  mean  exterior  were  en- 
closed considerable  mental  powers  and  accomplishments,  a 
daring  ambition,  and  a  courage  almost  superhuman.  Yet 
those  qualities  led  him  only  to  form  upon  the  threshold  of  life 
a  deliberate  determination  to  achieve  greatness  by  the  assas- 
sin's trade.  The  rewards  held  out  by  the  Ban,  combining  with 
his  religious  bigotry  and  his  passion  for  distinction,  fixed  all 
his  energies  with  patient  concentration  upon  the  one  great 
purpose  for  which  he  seemed  to  have  been  born,  and  after 
seven  years'  preparation,  he  had  at  last  fulfilled  his  design. 

Upon  being  interrogated  by  the  magistrates,  he  manifested 
neither  despair  nor  contrition,  but  rather  a  quiet  exultation. 
"Like  David,"  he  said,  "he  had  slain  Goliath  of  Gath." 
When  falsely  informed  that  his  victim  was  not  dead,  he 
showed  no  credulity  or  disappointment.  He  had  discharged 
three  poisoned  balls  into  the  Prince's  stomach,  and  he  knew 
that  death  must  have  already  ensued.  He  expressed  regret, 
however,  that  the  resistance  of  the  halberdiers  had  prevented 
him  from  using  his  second  pistol,  and  avowed  that  if  he  were 
a  thousand  leagues  away,  he  would  return  in  order  to  do  the 
deed  again,  if  possible.  He  deliberately  wrote  a  detailed  con- 
fession of  his  crime,  and  of  the  motives  and  manner  of  its 
commission,  taking  care,  however,  not  to  implicate  Parma 
in  the  transaction.  After  sustaining  day  after  day  the  most 
horrible  tortures,  he  subsequently  related  his  interviews  with 
Assonleville  and  with  the  president  of  the  Jesuit  college  at 
Treves,  adding  that  he  had  been  influenced  in  his  work  by 
the  assurance  of  obtaining  the  rewards  promised  by  the  Ban. 
During  the  intervals  of  repose  from  the  rack  he  conversed 
with  ease,  and  even  eloquence,  answering  all  questions  ad- 
dressed to  him  with  apparent  sincerity.  His  constancy  in 
suffering  so  astounded  his  judges  that  they  believed  him  sup- 
ported by  witchcraft.  "  Ecce  homo  !"  he  exclaimed,  from  time 
to  time,  with  insane  blasphemy,  as  he  raised  his  blood-stream- 


236  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

ing  head  from  the  bench.  In  order  to  destroy  the  charm 
which  seemed  to  render  him  insensible  to  pain,  they  sent  for 
the  shirt  of  a  hospital  patient,  supposed  to  be  a  sorcerer. 
When  clothed  in  this  garment,  however,  Balthazar  was  none 
the  less  superior  to  the  arts  of  the  tormentors,  enduring  all 
their  inflictions,  according  to  an  eye-witness,  "  without  once 
exclaiming,  Ah  me !"  and  avowing  that  he  would  repeat  his 
enterprise,  if  possible,  were  he  to  die  a  thousand  deaths  in 
consequence.  Some  of  those  present  refused  to  believe  that 
he  was  a  man  at  all.  Others  asked  him  how  long  since  he 
had  sold  himself  to  the  devil,  to  which  he  replied,  mildly, 
that  he  had  no  acquaintance  whatever  with  the  devil.  He 
thanked  the  judges  politely  for  the  food  which  he  received 
in  prison,  and  promised  to  recompense  them  for  the  favor. 
Upon  being  asked  how  that  was  possible,  he  replied,  that  he 
would  serve  as  their  advocate  in  Paradise. 


The  Thirty  Years'  War. 

Chas.  F.  Home  in  The  Story  of  the  Greatest  Notion*. 

From  the  year  1618  to  the  year  1648,  there  raged  a  war  i« 
the  central  parts  of  Europe  which  reduced  the  population  of 
Germany  from  fifteen  million  to  less  than  five  million. 

What  was  the  cause  of  such  a  ferocious  and  devastating 
and  long-lasting  feud?  It  was  religious  fanaticism  and  hatred. 
The  Emperor  of  Germany,  who  at  that  time  was  entirely  under 
the  influence  of  the  Jesuits  and  was  stirred  up  to  intense  hatred 
against  Protestantism  by  his  Roman  Catholic  advisers,  thought 
that  he  could  force  all  his  Lutheran  subjects  back  into  the  sect 
of  Rome.  What  a  spectacle !  The  man  who  was  elected, 
crowned,  placed  under  oath,  and  paid  to  protect  his  people,  perse- 
cuting them,  robbing  them,  murdering  them,  and  driving  them 
from  their  homes  and  families !  That  is  how  Roman  Catholic 
superstition  makes  faithless  persecutors  of  those  who  should  be 
protectors. 

Ferdinand  had  crushed  'Protestantism  in  every  estate  he 
owned.  In  1615,  he  and  Matthias  began,  or  at  least  permitted, 
measures  for  its  repression  in  Bohemia.  There  were  tumults, 


THE   THIRTY    YEARS'    WAR.  237 

uprisings,  and  on  May  23,  1618,  a  party  of  angry  citizens 
of  Prague  burst  into  the  council  hall,  seized  Slavata  and 
Martinitz,  the  two  most  obnoxious  of  the  Catholic  leaders, 
and  hurled  them  from  the  window.  It  was  an  ancient  form 
of  Bohemian  punishment,  which  had  been  used  by  Ziska  and 
by  others.  The  window  this  time  was  over  eighty  feet  from 
the  ground,  yet  the  fall  did  not  prove  fatal.  The  men  landed 
on  a  soft  rubbish  heap  below,  and  one  was  unhurt;  the  other, 
though  much  injured,  survived.  Their  secretary  was  hurled 
after  them,  and  is  said  to  have  apologized  to  his  masters, 
even  as  he  landed,  for  his  unavoidable  discourtesy  in  alight- 
ing upon  them. 

This  semicomic  tragedy  opened  the  Thirty  Years'  War. 
At  first  the  struggle  was  confined  to  Bohemia  and  Austria. 
The  other  states,  secure  in  the  fact  that  four  fifths  of  the 
populace  of  the  empire  was  Protestant,  looked  on  with  seem- 
ing indifference.  The  Bohemians  drove  the  scattered  im- 
perial troops  from  their  country. 

Meanwhile  Matthias  died,  and  Ferdinand  was  elected  to 
the  imperial  throne  as  Ferdinand  II  (1619-1637).  The  Bo- 
hemians besieged  him  in  Vienna.  The  Protestant  Austrian 
nobles  turned  against  him,  and  a  deputation  forced  its  way 
into  the  presence  of  the  helpless  Emperor,  and  insisted  on 
his  signing  for  them  a  grant  of  political  and  religious  liberty. 
Ferdinand  resolutely  refused ;  the  deputation  grew  threat- 
ening. One  fierce  noble  seized  the  Emperor  roughly  by  the 
coat  front,  crying,  with  an  offensive  nickname  for  Ferdinand, 
"  Sign  it,  Nandel !"  A  trumpet  from  the  castle-yard  in- 
terrupted them.  It  signaled  the  arrival  of  a  body  of  im- 
perial troops,  who  had  slipped  through  the  lines  of  the  be- 
siegers, and  had  come  to  the  Emperor's  rescue. 

The  Austrian  nobles  withdrew.  Spanish  and  Cossack 
troops  were  called  by  Ferdinand  into  the  country  to  crush 
all  opposition.  The  Bohemians,  wasted  by  famine  and  plague, 
retreated  into  their  own  land,  and  the  war  continued  there. 
The  people  offered  the  Bohemian  throne  to  Frederick,  the 
elector  of  the  Rhenish  Palatinate,  and  a  son-in-law  of  the 
English  king,  James  I.  « ' 

Frederick  accepted,  went  to  Bohemia  in  state,  and  tried 
to  draw  the  other  Protestant  princes  to  his  help.  But  he 


238  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

was  a  Calvinist,  so  the  Lutherans  refused  to  join  him.  His 
new  subjects  were  mainly  Lutherans  also,  and  his  impolitic 
effort  to  enforce  his  religious  views  upon  Prague  soon  aroused 
the  citizens  to  a  state  of  revolt  against  him. 

The  Catholic  princes  of  the  empire  had  long  been  united 
in  a  "  League,"  with  Bavaria  at  its  head.  Bavaria  was,  next 
to  Austria,  the  most  powerful  state  of  the  empire,  and  it  had 
become  the  stronghold  of  the  Roman  faith  in  Germany. 
Now,  the  army  of  this  League,  under  its  chief,  Maximilian 
of  Bavaria,  offered  its  services  to  the  Emperor  against  the 
disunited  and  wavering  Bohemians.  A  portion  of  the  Bo- 
hemian army  was  defeated  at  the  battle  of  White  Mountain, 
just  outside  of  Prague.  Frederick,  the  newly  elected  Bo- 
hemian king,  saw  his  troops  come  fleeing  back  to  the  town, 
and  their  panic  seems  to  have  seized  him  also.  Abandoning 
the  strong  walled  city,  he  swept  such  of  his  possessions 
together  as  he  could,  and  fled  in  haste  from  Bohemia.  "  The 
Winter  King "  his  enemies  called  him  in  derision,  because 
his  kingship  had  lasted  but  one  short  winter. 

The  citizens,  disheartened  by  his  flight,  terrified  by  the 
overwhelming  forces  arrayed  against  them,  surrendered  to 
Ferdinand.  Executions,  proscriptions,  banishments,  followed 
without  number.  Every  person  of  the  land  was  compelled  to 
accept  Catholicism.  Many  burned  their  homes  with  their 
own  hands,  and  fled  to  other  countries.  Seldom  has  liberty 
been  so  utterly  trampled  under  foot;  seldom  has  a  land  been 
so  completely  subjugated.  The  Bohemians,  who  had  been 
one  of  the  most  intellectual,  energetic  peoples  of  Europe, 
here  practically  disappeared  from  history  as  a  separate 
nation. 

We  turn  now  to  the  second  period  of  the  deplorable  war. 
Its  scene  shifts  to  the  domain  of  the  unhappy  Frederick  upon 
the  Rhine.  He  himself  fled  to  Holland,  but  his  land  was  con- 
sidered as  forfeited,  and  was  deliberately  desolated  by 
Spanish  troops  in  the  service  of  the  Emperor.  The  Bo- 
hemians had  employed  a  well-known  leader  of  mercenary 
troops,  Count  Mansfeld.  When  their  cause  was  lost,  Mans- 
feld,  with  most  of  his  army,  amused  the  Catholic  forces  by 
negotiations,  till  he  saw  his  opportunity,  when  he  slipped 
away  from  them,  and  led  his  army  to  the  Rhine.  There  he 
continued  the  war  in  Frederick's  name,  though  really  for 


THE  THIRTY  YEARS*   WAR.  239 

his  own  sake.  His  troops  supported  themselves  by  pillaging 
the  country,  and  the  wretched  inhabitants  of  Frederick's  Pal- 
atinate were  treated  almost  as  mercilessly  by  their  pretended 
friends  as  by  their  open  foes. 

The  peasants  of  Upper  Austria  also  rebelled  against  Fer- 
dinand's efforts  to  force  his  religion  upon  them.  For  a 
time  it  seemed  they  would  be  as  successful  as  the  Swiss  moun- 
taineers had  been.  Under  a  peasant  named  Fadinger  they 
gained  several  impressive  victories;  but  he  was  killed,  and 
their  cause  collapsed  into  ruin.  In  its  last  stages  their 
struggle  was  taken  up  by  an  unknown  leader,  who  was  called 
simply  "  the  Student."  But  it  was  too  late.  Remarkable  and 
romantic  as  was  the  Student's  career,  his  exploits  and  vic- 
tories could  not  save  the  cause,  and  he  perished  at  the  head 
of  his  followers. 

Meanwhile,  the  war  along  the  Rhine  assumed  more  and 
more  the  savage  character  that  made  it  so  destructive  to  the 
land.  Mansfeld,  driven  from  the  Palatinate,  supported  his 
ferocious  troops  almost  entirely  by  plundering.  Tilly,  the 
chief  general  of  the  Catholic  League,  followed  similar  tactics, 
and,  wherever  they  passed,  the  land  lay  ruined  behind  them. 
Some  of  the  lesser  Protestant  princes  joined  Mansfeld,  but 
Tilly  proved  a  great  military  leader,  and  his  opponents  were 
slowly  crowded  back  into  Northern  Germany.  The  Em- 
peror forced  his  religion  upon  the  Rhine  districts,  as  he  had 
upon  Bohemia  and  Austria.  The  Protestant  world  at  last 
began  to  take  alarm.  Both  England  and  Holland  lent  Mans- 
feld support.  The  King  of  Denmark,  drawing  as  many  of 
the  Protestant  German  princes  as  possible  to  his  side,  joined 
vigorously  in  the  contest. 

This  Danish  struggle  may  be  considered  the  third  period 
of  the  war.  It  lasted  from  about  1625  to  1629,  and  intro- 
duces one  of  the  two  most  remarkable  men  of  the  period. 

Albert  of  Waldstein,  of  Wallenstein,  as  he  is  generally 
called,  was  a  native  of  Bohemia,  who  joined  the  Catholics, 
and  won  military  fame  and  experience  fighting  on  tKe  im- 
perial side  in  the  Bohemian  war.  He  acquired  vast  wealth 
through  marriage  and  the  purchase  of  the  confiscated  Prot- 
estant estates.  Proving  a  remarkably  capable  financial  man- 
ager, he  was  soon  the  richest  subject  in  the  empire,  and  was 
created  Duke  of  Friedland,  a  district  of  Bohemia. 


240  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

All  of  these  successes  were  to  Wallenstein  mere  prelim- 
inary steps  to  an  even  more  boundless  ambition.  He  studied 
the  political  outlook,  and  his  keen  eye  saw  the  possibility  of 
vastly  expanding  Mansfeld's  barbaric  system  of  supporting 
his  soldiers  by  plunder.  The  Emperor  Ferdinand  had  but  few 
troops  of  his  own,  and  they  were  needed  for  quelling  rebel- 
lion within  his  personal  domains.  For  carrying  on  the  war 
along  the  Rhine,  he  was  entirely  dependent  upon  the  princes 
of  the  Catholic  League  and  their  army  under  Tilly. 

Wallenstein  now  came  forward  and  offered  to  supply  the 
Emperor  with  a  powerful  imperial  army  which  should  not 
cost  him  a  penny.  This  offer,  coming  from  a  mere  private 
gentleman,  sounded  absurd;  and  for  a  time  Wallenstein 
was  put  aside  with  contemptuous  laughter.  At  last  the  Em- 
peror told  him,  if  he  thought  he  could  raise  as  many  as  ten 
thousand  men,  to  go  ahead.  "  If  I  had  only  ten  thousand," 
said  Wallenstein,  "  we  must  accept  what  people  choose  to 
give  us.  If  I  have  thirty  thousand,  we  can  take  what  we 
like." 

The  answer  makes  plain  his  whole  system.  His  troops 
supported  and  paid  themselves  at  the  expense  of  the  neigh- 
borhood where  they  were  quartered.  If  it  was  a  district 
which  upheld  the  Emperor,  they  took  "  contributions  to  the 
necessity  of  the  empire."  If  the  land  opposed  him,  no  polite 
words  were  needed  to  justify  its  pillage.  Within  three  months 
Wallenstein  had  nearly  fifty  thousand  men  under  his  stand- 
ard, drawn  to  him  by  the  tempting  offers  of  plunder  that  his 
agents  held  out.  If  the  war  had  been  terrible  before,  im- 
agine the  awful  phase  it  now  assumed,  and  the  blighting 
curse  that  fell  upon  unhappy  Germany ! 

Modern  justice  can  find  little  to  choose  thereafter  between 
the  methods  of  the  opposing  armies.  We  speak,  therefore, 
only  of  the  martial  genius  which  Wallenstein  displayed.  He 
completely  outmanoeuvered  Mansfeld,  defeated  him,  and  drove 
him  to  flight  and  death.  Then  Wallenstein  and  Tilly  proceeded 
to  destroy  the  high  military  reputation  of  the  Danish  King. 
He  was  overcome  in  battle  after  battle,  and  his  land  so 
completely  devastated  that  he  prayed  for  peace  on  any  terms. 

Peace  seemed  indeed  at  hand.  The  remaining  Lutheran 
states  of  Saxony  and  Brandenburg,  which  had  been  neutral 
and  were  as  yet  almost  unharmed,  dared  not  interfere.  The 


THE   THIRTY   YEARS'    WAR.  241 

Emperor  Ferdinand  might  have  arranged  everything  as  he 
chose  had  he  used  his  power  with  moderation.  But  his  hopes 
had  grown  with  his  fortunes,  and  he  seemed  to  have  planned 
the  establishment  of  such  an  absolute  power  over  Germany 
as  had  been  the  aim  of  his  ancestor,  Charles  V.  Ferdinand 
passed  laws  and  gave  decrees,  without  any  pretense  of  calling 
a  council  or  seeking  the  approval  of  the  princes.  His  general, 
Wallenstein,  was  given  one  of  the  conquered  states  as  his 
dukedom;  and  Wallenstein  declared  openly  that  his  master 
had  no  further  need  of  councils ;  the  time  had  come  for 
Germany  to  be  governed  as  were  France  and  Spain. 

The  Catholic  princes,  with  Maximilian  of  Bavaria  at  their 
head,  became  frightened  by  the  giant  they  themselves  had 
created,  and  began  to  take  measures  for  their  own  preserva- 
tion. They  demanded  that  Wallenstein  be  removed  from 
his  command.  The  Emperor,  perhaps  himself  afraid  of  his 
too  powerful  general,  finally  consented. 

There  still  remained,  however,  the  serious  question 
whether  Wallenstein  would  accept  his  dismissal.  His  huge 
and  ever  growing  army  was  absolutely  under  his  control. 
His  influence  over  the  troops  was  extraordinary.  A  firm 
believer  in  astrology,  he  asserted  that  the  stars  promised  him 
certain  success,  and  his  followers  believed  him.  Tall  and  thin, 
dark  and  solemn,  silent  and  grim,  wearing  a  scarlet  coat  and 
a  long,  blood-red  feather  in  his  hat,  he  was  declared  by  pop- 
ular superstition  to  be  in  league  with  the  devil,  invulnerable 
and  unconquerable.  No  evil  act  of  his  soldiery  did  he  ever 
rebuke.  Only  two  things  he  demanded  of  them — absolute 
obedience  and  unshaken  daring.  The  man  who  flinched  or 
disobeyed  was  executed  on  the  instant.  Otherwise  the  ma- 
rauders might  desecrate  God's  earth  with  whatsoever  hideous 
crimes  they  would.  His  troops  laughed  at  the  idea  of  being 
Catholics  or  Protestants,  Germans  or  Bohemians;  they  were 
"  Wallensteiners  "  and  nothing  else. 

Even  Ferdinand  would  scarcely  have  dared  oppose  his 
overgrown  servant,  had  not  Wallenstein  failed  in  an  attempt 
to  capture  Stralsund.  This  little  Baltic  seaport  held  out 
against  the  assaults  of  his  entire  army.  Wallenstein  vowed 
that  he  would  capture  it  "  though  it  were  fastened  by  chains 
to  heaven."  But  each  mad  attack  of  his  wild  troopers  was 
beaten  back  from  the  walls  by  the  desperate  townsfolk ;  and 

16 


242  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY.. 

at  last,  with  twelve  thousand  of  his  men  dead,  he  retreated 
from  before  the  stubborn  port.  A  superstitious  load  was 
lifted  from  the  minds  even  of  those  who  pretended  to  be  his 
friends.  Wallenstein  was  not  unconquerable. 

He  accepted  the  Emperor's  notice  of  removal  with  haughty 
disdain.  He  said  he  had  already  seen  it  in  the  stars  that  evil 
men  had  sowed  dissension  between  him  and  his  sovereign, 
but  the  end  was  not  yet.  He  retired  to  his  vast  estates  in 
Bohemia,  and  lived  at  Prague  with  a  magnificence  exceeding 
that  of  any  court  in  Germany.  His  table  was  always  set 
for  a  hundred  guests.  He  had  sixty  pages  of  the  noblest 
families  to  wait  upon  him.  For  chamberlains  and  other 
household  officials,  he  had  men  who  came  from  similar  places 
under  the  Emperor. 

Meanwhile  a  new  defender  had  sprung  up  for  exhausted 
Protestantism.  Gustavus  Adolphus,  King  of  Sweden,  invaded 
Germany  in  1630,  and  called  on  the  Protestants  to  help  him 
in  the  fight  to  save  their  faith.  All  Europe  had  grown  afraid 
of  the  tremendous  and  increasing  power  of  the  Hapsburg 
Emperor.  Not  only  was  Protestant  England  in  league  with 
the  Swedes,  but  Catholic  France,  under  its  shrewd  minister, 
Richelieu,  also  upheld  them.  Still  the  burden  of  actual 
fighting  fell  upon  Gustavus  Adolphus,  who  proved  himself 
the  greatest  military  leader  of  the  age,  and,  in  the  eyes  of 
Protestant  Europe,  the  noblest  and  sublimest  man  since 
Luther. 

It  is  not  our  province  to  analyze  the  motives  of  the 
Swedish  King,  the  "  Lion  of  the  North,"  as  he  is  called. 
How  much  he  was  actuated  by  ambition,  how  much  by  re- 
ligion, perhaps  he  himself  might  have  found  it  hard  to  say. 
His  coming  marks  the  turning-point  of  the  contest ;  his 
brilliant  achievements  constitute  the  fourth  period  of  the  war. 

Tilly  opposed  him  with  the  army  of  the  Catholic  League — 
Tilly,  the  victor  of  thirty  desperate  battles.  The  Emperor 
and  his  court  laughed,  and,  thinking  of  the  Bohemian  King 
and  the  Dane,  said,  "  Another  of  these  snow  kings  has  come 
against  us.  He,  too,  will  melt  in  our  southern  sun." 

The  Protestant  princes  hesitated,  fearing  to  join  Gus- 
tavus ;  he  was  hampered  on  every  side.  Tilly  in  his  very  face 
stormed  the  great  Protestant  city  of  Magdeburg,  and  sacked 
it  with  such  merciless  brutalities  as  raised  a  cry  of  horrified 


THE   THIRTY    YEARS'    WAR.  243 

disgust,  even  in  the  age  of  atrocities.  "  Never  was  such  a 
victory,"  wrote  Tilly  to  the  Emperor,  "  since  the  storming 
of  Troy  or  of  Jerusalem.  I  am  sorry  you  and  the  ladies  of 
the  court  were  not  there  to  enjoy  the  spectacle."  A  heap 
of  blackened  ruins,  hiding  a  few  hundred  famished  and  broken 
outcasts,  was  all  that  remained  of  a  splendid  and  prosperous 
city  of  forty  thousand  souls. 

Tilly's  object  in  this  bloody  deed  seems  to  have  been  to 
terrify  the  rest  of  Protestant  Germany  into  submission.  If 
so,  he  failed  of  his  purpose.  Gustavus  promptly  abandoned 
gentle  measures,  and  by  a  threat  of  force  compelled  the  Saxon 
Elector  to  join  him.  He  then  met  Tilly  in  a  fierce  battle 
near  Leipsic  and  utterly  defeated  him.  Tilly  fled,  and  his 
army  was  almost  annihilated,  the  fugitives  who  escaped  the 
Swedes  falling  victims  to  the  vengeance  of  the  enraged  Prot- 
estant peasantry.  Few  men  who  had  taken  part  in  the  sack" 
of  Magdeburg  lived  long  to  boast  of  their  achievement. 

Gustavus  swept  victoriously  through  all  the  Rhineland. 
One  Catholic  prince  or  bishop  after  another  was  defeated. 
.The  advance  soon  became  little  more  than  a  triumphal  pro- 
cession, city  after  city  opening  its  gates  to  welcome  him. 
The  Saxon  army  conquered  Bohemia;  Gustavus  reached 
Bavaria. 

There,  on  the  southern  bank  of  the  River  Lech,  the  Ba- 
varian army  under  Tilly  and  Prince  Maximilian  was  drawn 
to  oppose  the  passage  of  the  Protestant  troops.  It  seemed  im- 
possible to  cross  the  broad  and  deep  stream  in  the  face  of  such 
a  force  and  such  a  general.  Gustavus  kept  up  a  tremendous 
cannonade  for  three  days.  He  burned  great  fires  along  the 
shore,  that  the  smoke  might  conceal  his  movements.  Tilly 
was  struck  down  by  a  cannon-ball,  the  whole  Bavarian  army 
fell  into  confusion,  and  the  Swedes  rushed  across  the  river 
almost  unopposed.  Maximilian  fled  with  his  army;  and 
Bavaria,  which  as  yet  had  escaped  the  horrors  of  the  war, 
was  in  its  turn  plundered  by  an  enemy. 

The  stars  in  their  courses  seemed  indeed  to  fight  for 
Wallenstein.  From  the  moment  that  he  was  deprived  of 
his  command,  the  triumphant  cause  of  the  Emperor  had 
fallen,  fallen  until  now  it  lay  in  utter  ruin.  The  Saxons 
held  Bohemia ;  all  Western  Germany  was  in  Gustavus'  hands ; 


244  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

nothing  interposed  between  the  conquerors  and  defenseless 
Austria — nothing  but  Wallenstein. 

Messenger  after  messenger  sped  from  the  Emperor  to 
his  offended  general,  entreating  him  to  reaccept  his  command. 
Wallenstein  dallied,  and  postponed  his  consent,  until  he  had 
wrung  from  his  despairing  sovereign  such  terms  as  never 
general  secured  before  or  since.  Practically  Wallenstein  be- 
came as  exalted  in  authority  as  the  Emperor  himself,  and 
wholly  independent  of  his  former  master.  He  was  to  carry 
on  the  war  or  to  make  peace  entirely  as  he  saw  fit,  without 
interference  of  any  sort.  Certain  provinces  of  Austria  were 
given  him  to  hold  as  a  guarantee  of  the  Emperor's  good 
faith. 

The  mere  raising  of  the  great  general's  standard  drew 
around  him  another  army  of  "  Wallensteiners,"  with  whom 
he  marched  against  Gustavus.  Two  of  the  ablest  military 
leaders  in  history  were  thus  pitted  against  each  other.  TEere 
were  clever  marches  and  countermarches,  partial,  indecisive 
attacks,  and  at  last  a  great  culminating  battle  at  Luetzen, 
in  Saxony,  November  6,  1632. 

Gustavus  won;  but  he  perished  on  the  field.  He  was 
always  exposing  himself  in  battle,  and  at  Luetzen  he  gal- 
loped across  in  front  of  his  army  from  one  wing  to  another. 
A  shot  struck  him — a  traitor  shot,  say  some,  from  his  own 
German  allies.  He  fell  from  his  horse,  and  a  band  of  the 
opposing  cavalry  encircled  and  slew  him,  not  knowing  who 
he  was.  His  Swedes,  who  adored  him,  pressed  furiously  for- 
ward to  save  or  avenge  their  leader.  The  Wallensteiners, 
after  a  desperate  struggle,  broke  and  fled  before  the  resist- 
less attack. 

Wallenstein  himself,  his  hat  and  cloak  riddled  with  bul- 
lets, rushed  in  vain  among  his  men,  taunting  them  furiously 
with  their  cowardice.  It  was  only  the  night  and  the  death 
of  Gustavus  that  prevented  the  Swedes  from  reaping  the  full 
fruits  of  their  victory.  The  imperial  troops  retreated  un- 
pursued.  Wallenstein  held  a  savage  court-martial,  and  exe- 
cuted all  of  his  men  whom  he  could  prove  had  been  among 
the  first  in  flight. 

From  this  time  the  war  enters  on  its  fifth  stage.  Wallen- 
stein did  little  more  fighting.  He  withdrew  his  troops  into 
Bohemia,  and  it  is  hard  to  say  what  purposes  simmered  in 


THE   THIRTY   YEARS'    WAR.  245 

his  dark  and  inscrutable  brain.  He  certainly  was  no  longer 
loyal  to  the  Emperor;  probably  the  Emperor  plotted  against 
him.  Wallenstein  seemed  to  have  contemplated  making 
himself  king  of  an  independent  Bohemian  kingdom.  At  any 
rate,  he  broke  openly  with  his  sovereign,  and  at  a  great  ban- 
quet persuaded  his  leading  officers  to  sign  an  oath  that  they 
would  stand  by  him  in  whatever  he  did.  Some  of  the  more 
timid  among  them  warned  the  Emperor,  and  with  his  approval 
formed  a  trap  for  Wallenstein.  The  general's  chief  lieuten- 
ants were  suddenly  set  upon  and  slain;  then  the  murderers 
rushed  to  Wallenstein's  own  apartments.  Hearing  them  com- 
ing, he  stood  up  dauntlessly,  threw  wide  his  arms  to  their 
blows,  and  died  as  silent  and  mysterious  as  he  had  lived. 
His  slayers  were  richly  rewarded  by  Ferdinand. 

All  Germany  was  weary  of  the  war.  The  contending 
parties  had  fought  each  other  to  a  standstill;  and,  had  Ger- 
many alone  been  concerned,  peace  would  certainly  have  fol- 
lowed. But  the  Swedes,  abandoning  Gustavus'  higher  policy, 
continued  the  war  for  what  increase  of  territory  they  could 
get;  and  France  helped  herself  to  what  German  cities  she 
could  in  Alsace  and  Lorraine.  So  the  war  went  on,  the 
German  princes  taking  sides  now  with  this  one,  now  with 
the  other,  and  nobody  apparently  ever  thinking  of  the  poor 
peasantry. 

The  spirit  of  the  brutal  soldiery  grew  ever  more  atrocious. 
Their  captives  were  tortured  to  death  for  punishment  or  for 
ransom,  or,  it  is  to  be  feared,  for  the  mere  amusement  of 
the  bestial  captors.  The  open  country  became  everywhere  a 
wilderness.  The  soldiers  themselves  began  starving  in  the 
dismal  desert. 

The  Emperor,  Ferdinand  II,  the  cause  of  all  this  destruc- 
tion, died  in  1637,  and  was  succeeded  by  his  son,  Ferdinand 
III  (1637-1657).  The  war  still  continued,  though  in  a  feeble, 
listless  way,  with  no  decisive  victories  on  either  side,  until 
the  Peace  of  Westphalia,  in  1648.  This  peace  placed  Prot- 
estants and  Catholics  on  an  equal  footing  of  toleration 
throughout  the  empire.  It  gave  Sweden  what  territory  she 
wanted  in  the  north,  and  France  what  she  asked  toward  the 
Rhine.  Switzerland  and  Holland  were  acknowledged  as 
independent  lands.  The  importance  of  the  smaller  princes 
was  increased,  they,  too,  becoming  practically  independent, 


246  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

and  the  power  of  the  emperors  was  all  but  destroyed.  From 
this  time  the  importance  of  the  Hapsburgs  rested  solely  on 
their  personal  possessions  in  Austria,  Hungary,  and  Bo- 
hemia. The  title  of  emperor  remained  little  better  than  a 
name. 

Indeed.  Germany  itself  had  become  scarcely  more  than  a 
name.  During  those  terrible  thirty  years  the  population  of 
the  land  is  said  to  have  dwindled  from  fifteen  millions  to 
less  than  five  millions.  In  the  Palatinate  less  than  fifty  thou- 
sand people  remained,  where  there  had  been  five  hundred 
thousand.  Whole  districts  everywhere  lay  utterly  waste, 
wild,  and  uninhabited.  Men  killed  themselves  to  escape 
starvation,  or  slew  their  brothers  for  a  fragment  of  bread. 
A  full  description  of  the  horrors  of  that  awful  time  will 
never  be  written ;  much  has  been  mercifully  obliterated. 
The  material  progress  of  Germany,  its  students  say,  was  re- 
tarded by  two  centuries'  growth.  To  this  day  the  land  has 
not  fully  recovered  from  the  exhaustion  of  that  awful  war. 


Grustavus  Adolphus — His  Triumph  and  Death. 

Benjamin  Chapman  in  The  Great  Events. 

Gustavus  Adolphus  was  the  Protestant  hero  who  came  to 
the  rescue  of  his  German  coreligionists  in  the  great  Thirty 
Years'  War  (i6i8-'48).  It  is  difficult  to  overestimate  the 
devastating  ravages  of  that  war,  or  rather  series  of  wars.  Re- 
ligious conviction,  faith,  superstition,  fanaticism,  tyranny,  per- 
sonal ambition,  and  malicious  intrigue  struggled  in  one  fearful 
melee.  And  to  this  day,  there  are  parts  of  Europe  that  have  not 
entirely  recovered  from  that  fierce  and  desolating  strife.  It 
was  a  time  when  great  soldiers  had  the  opportunity  to  display 
each  his  military  genius,  but  among  them  all  Gustavus  Adolphus 
shines  as  a  star  of  the  first  magnitude.  Cardinal  Richelieu, 
though,  as  a  Catholic,  an  opponent  of  Gustavus,  yet  says  of  him : 
"  Those  who  look  for  spots  on  the  sun,  and  find  something 
reprehensible,  even  in  virtue  itself,  blame  this  king." 

On  October  30,  Gustavus  sent  Bernhard,  Duke  of  Saxe- 
Weimar,  forward  with  eleven  thousand  men  to  observe  Pap- 


GUSTAVUS  ADOLPHUS HIS  TRIUMPH  AND  DEATH.    247 

penheim.  The  Duke  took  the  road  by  Buttstadt  to  Frei- 
burg, and  from  thence,  after  crossing  the  Saale,  to  Naum- 
burg,  where  he  arrived  just  in  time  to  anticipate  the  enemy. 

The  next  day  the  King  gave  the  military  command  at 
Erfurt  to  Dupadel,  and  proceeded  himself  to  Naumburg. 
Here  the  joy  and  confidence  which  his  presence  inspired, 
"  As  if  he  had  been  a  God,"  far  from  elating  him,  awakened 
only  in  his  mind  a  feeling  of  humility  and  a  sorrowful  pre- 
sentiment that  some  disaster  to  himself  would  soon  convince 
the  Naumburgers  of  the  frailty  of  the  idol  in  whom  they 
trusted. 

On  Sunday,  November  14,  he  learned,  by  an  intercepted 
letter,  that  Pappenheim  had  been  sent  to  Halle,  and  that  the 
next  day  the  imperial  army  was  to  leave  Weissenfels.  He 
would  now  have  attacked  Wallenstein  at  once;  but  the  dis- 
suasions of  Kniphausen — it  is  said — prevailed,  and  he  agreed 
to  defer  the  hazard  of  a  battle  until  he  should  have  been  re- 
enforced  by  George  of  Luneburg  and  the  Elector  of  Saxony. 

Accordingly,  having  written  to  the  Elector,  who  lay  at 
Torgau,  to  meet  him  at  Eilenburg,  he  was  himself  marching 
to  Pegau.  in  that  direction,  when  some  gentlemen  and  peas- 
ants of  the  neighborhood  brought  him  word  that  Wallen- 
stein's  troops  were  still  quartered  in  the  villages  around 
Luetzen,  and  that  he  was  not  aware  of  the  King's  army  being 
on  the  march.  "  Then,"  exclaimed  Gustavus,  "  I  verily  be- 
lieve the  Lord  has  delivered  him  into  my  hand,"  and  instantly 
darted  toward  his  prey. 

Luetzen  was  now  in  sight ;  the  peasants  said  it  was  close 
at  hand.  But  it  proved  more  distant  than  this  indefinite  ex- 
pression, or  the  measure  of  their  own  eager  gaze,  had  led  the 
Swedes  to  calculate.  Moreover,  a  small  river,  the  Rippart, 
that  lay  between  the  King  and  Luetzen,  whose  narrow  bridge 
could  be  only  passed  by  one  or  two  at  a  time,  impeded  the' 
advance  full  two  hours — a  skirmish  with  Isolani's  cavalry, 
who  were  quartered  at  a  village  near  the  bridge,  may  also 
have  occasioned  some  little  loss  of  time — so  that  when  the 
Swedish  army  had  reached  the  fatal  field,  it  was  nightfall, 
and  too  late  to  begin  the  battle. 

Wallenstein  made  good  use  of  the  delay.  On  the  first 
intelligence  of  the  King's  approach  he  had  written  to  Pappen- 
heim— the  letter  is  still  preserved  in  the  archive  of  Vienna, 


248  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

stained  with  Pappenheim's  blood — apprising  him  of  the  dan- 
ger, and  requiring  him  to  join  at  daybreak,  with  every  man 
and  gun.  During  the  night  and  early  in  the  morning,  which 
proved  very  misty,  he  mustered  his  troops  and  made  his 
disposition,  deepening  the  drains  by  the  high-roads  to  form 
intrenchments  for  his  musketeers. 

The  King  passed  the  night  in  his  carriage,  chiefly  in  con- 
versation with  his  generals.  Early  in  the  morning  he  had 
prayers  read  to  himself  by  his  chaplain,  Fabricius.  The 
rest  of  the  army  sang  Luther's  hymn,  "  A  Mighty  Fortress 
is  our  God ;"  and  Gustavus  himself  led  another  hymn — "  Jesus 
Christ,  our  Savior,  He  overcame  death." 

The  King  mounted  his  horse  without  having  broken  his 
fast.  He  wore  a  plain  buff  coat,  without  armor;  replying, 
it  is  said,  to  some  remark  upon  this  deficiency,  that  "  God 
was  his  harness."  He  addressed  a  few  words  of  encourage- 
ment first  to  the  Swedes,  then  to  the  Germans  of  his  army, 
and  to  this  effect:  "My  brave  and  beloved  subjects!"  he 
said  to  the  Swedish  regiments,  "  now  is  the  time  to  prove  your 
discipline  and  courage,  confirmed  in  many  a  fight.  Yonder 
is  the  enemy  you  have  sought  so  long,  not  now  sheltered  by 
strong  ramparts,  nor  posted  on  inaccessible  heights,  but 
ranged  in  fair  and  open  field.  Advance,  then,  by  God's  help, 
not  so  much  to  fight  as  to  conquer.  Spare  not  your  blood, 
your  lives,  for  your  King,  your  country,  your  God;  and  the 
present  and  eternal  blessing  of  the  Almighty,  and  an  illus- 
trious name  throughout  the  Christian  world  await  you.  But 
if,  which  God  forbid,  you  prove  cowards,  I  swear  that  not 
a  bone  of  you  shall  return  to  Sweden.  The  Lord  preserve 
you  all ! " 

To  the  Germans  he  said :  "  My  brave  allies  and  fellow- 
soldiers,  I  adjure  you  by  your  fame,  your  honor,  and  your 
conscience ;  by  the  interests  temporal  and  eternal  now  at 
stake;  by  your  former  exploits,  by  the  remembrance  of  Tilly 
and  the  Breitenfeld — bear  yourselves  bravely  to-day.  Let  the 
field  before  you  become  illustrious  by  a  similar  slaughter. 
Forward !  I  will  this  day  not  only  be  your  general,  but  your 
comrade.  I  will  not  only  command  you,  I  will  lead  you 
on.  Add  your  efforts  to  mine.  Extort  from  the  enemy,  by 
God's  help,  that  victory  of  which  the  chief  fruits  will  be  to 


GUSTAVUS  ADOLPHUS HIS  TRIUMPH  AND  DEATH.    24:9 

you  and  to  your  children.  But  if  you  shrink  from  the  contest, 
remember  that  religion,  liberty — all  will  be  lost,  and  that 
by  your  remissness." 

Having  finished  his  addresses,  to  which  both  Swedes  and 
Germans  responded  by  hearty  cheers  and  acclamations,  the 
King  cast  off  his  eyes  to  heaven  and  said,  "  Oh,  my  Lord 
Jesus !  Son  of  God,  bless  these  our  arms,  and  this  day's  bat- 
tle for  Thine  own  glory  and  holy  name's  sake."  Then,  draw- 
ing his  sword  and  waving  it  over  his  head,  he  advanced,  the 
foremost  of  all  his  army. 

The  numbers  of  the  two  armies  at  this  moment  were 
probably  nearly  equal.  Diodati,  indeed,  who  carried  to  the 
emperor  from  Wallenstein  a  verbal  report  of  the  battle,  which 
by  Ferdinand's  order  he  afterward  drew  up  in  writing,  stated 
the  Swedish  army  to  have  been  25,000  strong,  the  imperial 
12,000  only.  This  is  to  be  understood  as  referring  to  the 
beginning  of  the  engagement  before  Pappenheim  had  come 
up,  at  which  time,  on  the  other  hand,  Hart  and  Mauvillon 
estimate  the  imperial  force  at  from  twenty-eight  thousand 
to  thirty  thousand  men,  Gfrorer  at  25,000 — estimates  which 
are  as  certainly  exaggerations  as  Diodati's  diminution  of  the 
truth.  Gustavus  would  not  only  have  departed  from  his 
avowed  maxims  and  previous  practice,  he  would  have  run 
counter  to  every  sound,  strategical  principle,  had  he  attacked 
without  necessity  an  army  numerically  superior.  For  that  the 
Swedish  army  amounted  in  all  to  not  more  than  18,000  men 
there  is  as  much  proof  almost  as  it  is  possible  to  attain  in 
such  a  matter. 

A  rough  calculation  would  make  Wallenstein  and  Pappen- 
heim's  whole  united  force  not  more  than  27,000,  unless  any 
reenforcements  took  place  which  have  not  been  recorded, 
or  which  have  escaped  my  notice.  If  we  estimate  Pappen- 
heim's  division  at  10,000,  this  will  give  17,000  imperialists 
on  the  field  before  he  joined  again  on  the  day  of  the  battle. 
But  the  Swedish  Intelligencer,  whose  information  was  de- 
rived from  English  officers  about  the  person  of  Gustavus, 
conceives  that  Wallenstein  must  have  had  at  this  time  full 
20,000,  or,  as  he  afterward  modifies  his  opinion,  that  he  must 
have  had  30,000  in  all,  of  whom  10,000  or  12,000  were  with 
Pappenheim. 

According  to  these  estimates,  then,  we  may  conclude  that 


250  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

there  were  in  the  imperial  camp  at  Luetzen  on  November  5, 
from  15,000  to  18,000,  or  perhaps  even  20,000  men.  Such 
numbers  offered  to  Gustavtts,  especially  under  the  circum- 
stances, a  strong  temptation  to  attack  them,  and,  the  imperial 
army  being  so  divided,  he  had  a  reasonable  hope — a  hope 
by  which  he  was  justified  in  forcing  the  engagement — 
that  he  should  be  able  to  defeat  successively  both  divisions. 
Even  as  it  was,  Pappenheim's  foot,  not  arriving  soon  enough 
to  support,  contributed  in  no  small  degree  to  the  loss  of  the 
battle. 

The  field,  which  was  intersected  by  a  canal  that  unites 
the  Saale  and  the  Elster,  called  the  Flossgraben,  was  almost 
a  level;  but  of  all  the  accidents  afforded  by  such  ground 
Wallenstein  had  taken  advantage.  Luetzen  lay  to  his  right 
a  little  in  front.  Between  it  and  the  three  windmills  close 
to  his  right  wing  intervened  some  mud-wall  gardens.  These 
he  made  use  of  as  forts,  throwing  into  them  little  garrisons, 
and  loop-holing  the  walls.  The  mill  hills  he  converted  into 
batteries  and  the  dry  ditches  by  the  roadside  into  breastworks 
for  his  musketeers. 

The  fog  having  cleared  off  for  a  season,  at  ten  o'clock 
the  battle  began.  The  wind  and  sun  were  in  the  King's 
favor;  but  Wallenstein  had  the  advantage  in  weight  of  ar- 
tillery and  position.  Gustavus  did  not  long  sustain  the  can- 
nonade of  the  enemy  before  he  gave  the  order  to  charge 
toward  the  highway  and  dislodge  the  musketeers  who  oc- 
cupied the  ditches  on  the  side  of  it.  This  being  effected,  the 
whole  line  continued  to  advance,  and  the  three  infantry 
brigades  of  the  center  took  the  batteries  on  the  other  side  of 
the  high  road,  but,  not  being  supported  in  time  by  their  cav- 
alry, who  had  been  impeded  by  the  wayside  ditches,  lost  them 
again  and  were  compelled  to  fall  back. 

When  the  King  knew  that  the  first  battery  was  taken, 
he  uncovered  his  head  and  thanked  God,  but  soon  after, 
learning  that  the  center  had  been  repulsed,  he  put  himself 
at  the  head  of  the  Smaland  cavalry,  and  charged  the  imperial 
cuirassiers,  the  "black  lads,"  with  whom  he  had  just  before 
told  Stalhanske  to  grapple.  Piccolomini  hastened  to  support 
the  cuirassiers ;  and  the  Swedes,  being  overmatched,  retreated 
without  perceiving — the  fog  having  again  come  over — that 
they  had  left  the  King  in  the  midst  of  the  enemy.  A  pistol 


GUSTAVUS  ADOLPHUS HIS  TRIUMPH  AND  DEATH.    251 

ball  now  broke  his  arm ;  and  as  the  Duke  of  Lauenburg  was 
supporting  him  out  of  the  battle,  an  imperial  cuirassier  came 
behind  him  and  shot  him  in  the  back.  He  then  fell  from 
his  horse;  and,  other  cuirassiers  coming  up,  one  of  them 
completed  the  work  of  death. 

It  is  added  on  the  testimony  of  a  young  gentleman  named 
Leubelfing,  the  son  of  Colonel  Leubelfing,  of  Nuremberg, 
and  page  to  the  Lord  Marshal  Crailsham,  that,  being  near 
when  the  King  fell,  and  seeing  that  his  charger,  wounded  in 
the  neck,  had  galloped  away,  he  dismounted  and  offered  him 
his  own  horse.  Gustavus  stretched  out  his  hands  to  accept 
the  offer,  and  the  page  attempted  to  lift  him  from  the  ground, 
but  was  unable.  In  the  meantime  some  cuirassiers,  attracted 
to  the  spot,  demanded  who  the  wounded  man  was.  Leubelf- 
ing evaded  the  question  or  refused  to  answer;  but  the  King 
himself  exclaimed,  "  I  am  the  King  of  Sweden,"  when  he 
received  four  gun-shot  wounds  and  two  stabs,  which  quickly 
released  him  from  the  agony  of  his  broken  arm,  the  bone  of 
which  had  pierced  the  flesh  and  protruded.  The  imperialist 
soldiers  about  the  King,  each  anxious  to  possess  some  trophy, 
had  stripped  the  body  to  the  shirt,  and  were  about  to  carry 
it  off,  when  a  body  of  Swedish  cavalry,  charging  toward  the 
spot,  dispersed  them. 

His  death  was  immediately  communicated  by  one  of  the 
few  who  were  about  his  person  when  he  fell,  to  the  Swedish 
generals.  His  charger,  galloping  loose  and  bloody  about  the 
field,  announced  to  many  more  that  some  disaster  had  befallen 
him.  The  whole  extent  of  the  calamity,  however,  was  not 
generally  known,  but  a  burning  desire  ran  through  the  ranks 
to  rescue  him,  if  living;  to  avenge  him,  if  dead.  The  noble 
Bernhard  of  Saxe-Weimar  sustained  and  animated  the  en- 
thusiasm. Having  whispered  to  Kniphausen  that  Gustavus 
was  dead,  he  asked  him  what  was  to  be  done.  Kniphausen 
answered  that  his  troops  were  in  good  order,  and  that  re- 
treat was  practicable ;  to  which  the  fiery  Duke  answered  that 
it  was  not  a  question  of  retreat,  but  of  vengeance  in  victory. 
This  said,  he  assumed  the  command,  and,  upon  Stenbock's 
lieutenant-colonel  hesitating  to  advance  when  he  ordered  him, 
passed  his  sword  through  his  body,  and  led  on  to  the  attack 
three  other  regiments,  after  a  few  words  which  gave  fresh 


252  THE  VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

fuel  to  their  ardor.  Again  the  lost  ground  is  won,  the  lost 
batteries  are  recovered.  Wallenstein's  ammunition  explodes, 
and  seven  of  his  guns  are  captured. 

Stalhanske  rallies  his  Finlanders,  drives  back  the  im- 
perial cuirassiers,  and  bears  away  the  King's  body — easily 
distinguished  from  the  rest  of  the  slain  by  his  heroic  stature. 
But  many  still  are  the  vicissitudes  of  that  memorable  day. 
Pappenheim  brings  fresh  masses  and  fresh  courage  into  the 
field.  He  is  slain;  content  to  die,  since  Gustavus,  the  foe  of 
the  Emperor  and  of  his  faith,  breathes  no  longer;  but  Pic- 
colomini  and  Tersky  have  inherited  his  spirit.  The  Swedes 
are  beaten  back;  several  standards  and  banners  are  won  by 
the  imperialists.  Count  Brahe  is  mortally  wounded;  and  of 
his  division — the  flower  of  all  the  army,  the  brave  veterans 
"  who  had  been  so  long  accustomed  to  conquer  that  they  knew 
not  how  to  yield " — there  remained  but  an  inconsiderable 
fraction. 

During  all  these  vicissitudes  the  cool  intrepidity  of  Knip- 
hausen  had  kept  the  second  line  of  the  second  unbroken;  and 
when,  between  three  and  four  o'clock,  the  fog  cleared  off, 
and  Duke  Bernhard,  who  had  expected  a  very  different  ap- 
pearance, saw  it  standing  firm  and  in  good  order,  he  raised 
his  voice  once  more  to  renew  the  assault.  This  charge  again 
changed  the  aspect  of  the  battle;  but  the  mist  again  spread- 
ing, again  the  Swedes  are  baffled  when  within  a  grasp  of 
victory.  The  fifth  and  decisive  charge  was  made  just  before 
sunset,  when  the  arrival  of  Pappenheim's  foot  encouraged 
the  imperialists  to  make  a  final  and  desperate  struggle.  Knip- 
hausen's  fresh  troops  were  now  brought  into  action.  The 
charge  ring  of  musketry,  the  shouts  of  those  full  of  life  and 
hope,  stifled  once  more  the  groans  of  the  wounded  comrades, 
in  whom  life  was  expiring  and  hope  was  dead.  Both  sides 
fought  bravely,  admirably;  and,  had  strength  and  courage 
alone  determined  this  last  agony,  doubtful  indeed  would 
have  been  its  issue.  But  the  Swedish  cannon  now  again 
opened  their  flaming  mouths  upon  the  right  flank  and  the 
front  of  the  imperialists ;  and  the  effect  was  terrible :  rank 
upon  rank  and  file  upon  file  fell  beneath  that  crushing  fire, 
so  that  when  darkness  thickened  around  the  still  contending 
armies,  taking  advantage  of  its  cover,  and  leaving  behind 


GUSTAVUS  ADOLPHUS HIS  TRIUMPH  AND  DEATH.    253 

him  the  guns  which  had  not  been  already  captured,  Wallen- 
stein  gave  the  signal  to  retreat,  and  drew  off  from  the  field. 

Thus  ended  this  day  of  mingled  glory  and  sadness,  the 
mists  and  confusion  of  which  have  in  a  great  measure  ob- 
scured its  history.  .  .  . 

Gustavus'  body  was  brought  on  a  powder  wagon  to  the 
hamlet  of  Meuchen,  where  it  was  placed  for  the  night  in 
the  church  before  the  altar.  The  next  day  it  was  carried  to 
the  schoolmaster's  house  until  he,  being  joiner  of  the  village 
also,  constructed  the  simple  shell  in  which  it  was  conveyed 
to  Weissenfels.  There  the  body  was  embalmed  by  the  King's 
apothecary,  Caspar,  who  counted  in  it  nine  wounds.  The 
heart,  which  was  uncommonly  large,  was  preserved  by  the 
queen  in  a  golden  casket.  A  trooper,  who  had  been  wounded 
at  the  King's  side,  who  remained  at  Meuchen  until  his  wound 
was  healed,  assisted  by  some  peasants,  rolled  a  large  stone 
toward  the  spot  where  he  fell.  They  were  unable,  however, 
to  bring  the  stone,  now  called  the  "  Swede's  Stone,"  to  the 
exact  spot,  from  which  it  stands  some  thirty  or  forty  paces 
distant. 

The  death  of  Gustavus  Adolphus  cast  a  gloom  over  the 
whole  of  Europe.  Even  foes  could  lament  the  fall  of  so  noble 
an  enemy.  To  his  subjects,  to  his  allies,  to  the  bondsmen 
who  looked  to  him  for  redress  and  deliverance,  his  loss  was  a 
heart-rending  sorrow.  Grave  and  aged  senators  wrung 
their  hands  and  sobbed  aloud  when  intelligence  reached 
Stockholm.  In  the  unfortunate  Frederick  of  Bohemia  it 
produced  a  depression  that  contributed  probably  to  his  death. 

Nor  was  the  grief  shown  by  the  many  merely  political  or 
selfish  excited  because  the  public  or  individual  hopes  centered 
in  the  King  seemed  to  have  perished  with  him.  A  heartfelt 
loyalty,  a  strong  personal  admiration  and  attachment,  inter- 
mingled with  other  sources  of  regret,  had  dignified  the  sorrow. 

It  would  have  been  strange  had  it  been  otherwise.  There 
were  in  Gustavus  most  of  the  advantages  and  amenities  of 
person  and  character  which  make  a  popular  king.  A  man 
admired  and  beloved.  In  his  latter  years,  indeed,  he  no  longer 
possessed  the  graceful  form  that  had  belonged  to  him  when 
he  was  an  ardent  and  favored  suitor  of  Ebba  Brahe;  but 
the  slight  inclination  to  corpulency  that  grew  with  him  as 
he  advanced  toward  middle  age,  detracted  probably  little, 


254  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

if  at  all,  from  the  commanding  dignity  of  his  person.  His 
countenance  to  the  last  retained  its  captivating  sweetness 
and  expressive  variety;  it  was  a  countenance  of  which  the 
most  accomplished  pencil  could  give  in  one  effort  only  an 
inadequate  idea,  and  which  Van  Dyke — to  whose  portrait  of 
the  King  none  of  the  engravings  which  I  have  seen  probably 
do  justice — has  represented  only  in  repose. 

But  in  the  varying  play  of  Gustavus'  features  men  could 
read  his  kindness  of  heart,  his  large  powers  of  sympathy, 
his  quick  intelligence,  his  noble,  chivalrous  nature.  And  these 
were  infinitely  attractive.  There,  too — it  must  not  be  con- 
cealed— they  could  often  discern  the  flash  of  anger,  to  be 
followed  quickly  by  the  rough  speech  which  gave  pain  and 
offense  where  a  little  self-control  and  consideration  might 
have  spared  a  pang  and  prevented  a  quarrel. 

This  propensity  to  anger  diminished  in  some  degree  both 
the  popularity  and  the  merit  of  Gustavus ;  yet  he  rarely  per- 
mitted his  anger  to  rage  beyond  a  harsh  expression,  and  with 
generous  instinct  he  knew  how  to  open  the  door  of  reconcili- 
ation, not  only  by  frankly  confessing  his  irritability,  and  by 
conferring  fresh  favors,  but  also  demanding  fresh  services 
from  those  noble  natures  which  in  his  heat  and  rashness  he 
had  injured  or  pained. 

In  the  field  he  shared  the  dangers  of  his  soldiers  with  a 
courage  liable,  doubtless,  to  the  charge  of  temerity,  but  to 
which,  no  less  than  to  his  participation  in  the  hardships,  his 
sympathy  with  their  feelings,  and  his  great  military  talents, 
he  owed,  under  God,  his  success  and  renown. 

That  his  military  fame  was  well  founded,  that  no  series  of 
accidents  could  have  produced  success,  at  once  so  splendid 
and  so  uniform,  we  must  have  believed,  though  all  profes- 
sional authorities  had  been  silent;  but  the  special  merit  of 
no  other  commander  has  been  more  generally  acknowledged 
by  those  of  his  own  craft.  His  most  celebrated  living  rival, 
and  the  greatest  conqueror  of  modern  times  have  both  set 
their  seals  to  it.  Wallenstein  on  two  separate  occasions  pro- 
nounced him  the  greatest  captain  of  his  age ;  and  among  the 
eight  best  generals  whom,  in  his  judgment,  the  world  had  ever 
seen,  Napoleon  gave  a  place  to  Gustavus  Adolphus. 


FREDERICK   THE   GREAT   OF   PRUSSIA.  255 

Frederick  the  Great  of  Prussia — His  Habits — 
the  Soldier. 

Macaulay's  Essays. 

History  has  surnamed  this  Frederick  "  the  great,"  and  has 
given  him  a  place  beside  such  soldiers  as  Napoleon  and  Marl- 
borough.  His  successes  were  generally  achieved  against  great 
odds.  It  was  his  indomitable  energy  and  his  untiring  devotion  to 
the  object  for  which  he  was  contending  that  led  him  to  overcome 
what  seemed  at  times  insurmountable  obstacles. 

Carlyle  has  given  us  the  incomparable  "  Life  of  Frederick 
the  Great,"  which  will  both  fascinate  and  richly  repay  the 
student  of  this  remarkable  man. 

Frederick's  own  exertions  were  such  as  were  hardly  fo 
be  expected  from  a  human  body  or  a  human  mind.  At  Pots- 
dam, his  ordinary  residence,  he  rose  at  three  in  summer  and 
four  in  winter.  A  page  soon  appeared,  with  a  large  basket- 
ful of  all  the  letters  which  had  arrived  for  the  King  by  the 
last  courier,  dispatches  from  ambassadors,  reports  from  offi- 
cers of  revenue,  plans  of  building,  proposals  for  draining 
marshes,  complaints  from  persons  who  thought  themselves 
aggrieved,  applications  from  persons  who  wanted  titles,  mil- 
itary commissions,  and  civil  situations.  He  examined  the 
seals  with  a  keen  eye;  for  he  was  never  for  a  moment  free 
from  the  suspicion  that  some  fraud  might  be  practiced  on 
him.  Then  he  read  the  letters,  divided  them  into  several 
packets,  and  signified  his  pleasure,  generally  by  a  mark,  often 
by  two  or  three  words,  and  now  and  then  by  some  cutting 
epigram.  By  eight  he  had  generally  finished  this  part  of  his 
task.  The  adjutant-general  was  then  in  attendance,  and  re- 
ceived instructions  for  the  day  as  to  all  the  military  arrange- 
ments of  the  kingdom.  Then  the  King  went  to  review  his 
guards,  not  as  kings  ordinarily  review  their  guards,  but  with 
the  minute  attention  and  severity  of  an  old  drill-sergeant. 
In  the  mean  time  the  four  cabinet  secretaries  had  been 
employed  in  answering  the  letters  on  which  the  King  had 
that  morning  signified  his  will.  These  unhappy  men  wer.e 
forced  to  work  all  the  year  round  like  negro  slaves  in  the 
time  of  the  sugar-crop.  They  never  had  a  holiday.  They 
never  knew  what  it  was  to  dine.  It  was  necessary  that,  before 
they  stirred,  they  should  finish  the  whole  of  their  work.  The 


256  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

King,  always  on  his  guard  against  treachery,  took  from  the 
heap  a  handful  of  letters  at  random,  and  looked  into  them 
to  see  whether  his  instructions  had  been  exactly  followed. 
This  was  no  bad  security  against  foul  play  on  the  part  of 
the  secretaries;  for  if  one  of  them  were  detected  in  a  trick, 
he  might  think  himself  fortunate  if  he  escaped  with  five 
years  of  imprisonment  in  a  dungeon.  Frederick  then  signed 
the  replies,  and  all  were  sent  off  the  same  evening. 

The  general  principles  on  which  this  government  was 
conducted,  deserve  attention.  The  policy  of  Frederick  was 
essentially  the  same  as  his  father's;  but  Frederick,  while 
he  carried  that  policy  to  lengths  to  which  his  father  never 
thought  of  carrying  it,  cleared  it  at  the  same  time  from 
the  absurdities  with  which  his  father  had  encumbered  it. 
The  King's  first  object  was  to  have  a  great,  efficient,  and 
well-trained  army.  He  had  a  kingdom  which  in  extent  and 
population  was  hardly  in  the  second  rank  of  European 
powers;  and  yet  he  aspired  to  a  place  not  inferior  to  that 
of  the  kings  of  England,  France,  or  Austria.  For  that  end 
it  was  necessary  that  Prussia  should  be  all  sting.  Louis 
XV,  with  five  times  as  many  subjects  as  Frederick,  and 
more  than  five  times  as  large  a  revenue,  had  not  a  more 
formidable  army.  The  proportion  which  the  soldiers  of 
Prussia  bore  to  the  people  seems  hardly  credible.  Of  the 
males  in  the  vigor  of  life,  a  seventh  part  were  probably 
under  arms;  and  this  great  force  had,  by  drilling,  by  re- 
viewing, and  by  the  unsparing  use  of  cane  and  scourge, 
been  taught  to  perform  all  evolutions  with  a  rapidity  and 
a  precision  which  would  have  astonished  Villars  or  Eugene. 


Considered  as  an  administrator,  Frederick  had  undoubtedly 
many  titles  to  praise.  Order  was  strictly  maintained  through- 
out his  dominions.  Property  was  secure.  A  great  liberty 
of  speaking  and  of  writing  was  allowed.  Confident  in  the 
irresistible  strength  derived  from  a  great  army,  the  King 
looked  down  on  malcontents  and  libelers  with  a  wise  dis- 
dain, and  gave  little  encouragement  to  spies  and  informers. 
When  he  was  told  of  the  disaffection  of  one  of  his  subjects, 
he  merely  asked,  "  How  many  thousand  men  can  he  bring 
into  the  field  ? "  He  once  saw  a  crowd  staring  at  some- 


FREDERICK   THE   GREAT   OF   PRUSSIA.  257 

thing  on  a  wall.  He  rode  up,  and  found  that  the  object 
of  curiosity  was  a  scurrilous  placard  against  himself.  The 
placard  had  been  posted  so  high  that  it  was  not  easy  to 
read  it.  Frederick  ordered  his  attendants  to  take  it  down 
and  put  it  lower.  "  My  people  and  I,"  he  said,  "  have  come 
to  an  agreement  which  satisfies  us  both.  They  are  to  say 
what  they  please,  and  I  am  to  do  what  I  please."  No  per- 
son would  have  dared  to  publish  in  London  satires  on  George 
II  approaching  the  atrocity  of  those  satires  on  Frederick 
which  the  booksellers  of  Berlin  sold  with  impunity.  One 
bookseller  sent  to  the  palace  a  copy  of  the  most  stinging 
lampoon  that  was  ever  written  in  the  world,  the  Memoirs  of 
Voltaire,  published  by  Beaumarchais,  and  asked  for  his  Maj- 
esty's orders.  "  Do  not  advertise  it  in  an  offensive  manner," 
said  the  King,  "  but  sell  it  by  all  means.  I  hope  it  will  pay 
you  well."  Even  among  statesmen  accustomed  to  the  license 
of  a  free  press,  such  steadfastness  of  mind  as  this  is  not 
very  common. 

It  is  due  also  to  the  memory  of  Frederick  to  say  that 
he  earnestly  labored  to  secure  to  his  people  the  great  bless- 
ing of  cheap  and  speedy  justice.  He  was  one  of  the  first 
rulers  who  abolished  the  cruel  and  absurd  practice  of  tor- 
ture. No  sentence  of  death  pronounced  by  the  ordinary 
tribunals  was  executed  without  his  sanction;  and  his  sanc- 
tion, except  in  cases  of  murder,  was  rarely  given. 
Towards  his  troops  he  acted  in  a  very  different  manner. 
Military  offenses  were  punished  with  such  barbarous 
scourging  that  to  be  shot  was  considered  by  a  Prussian 
soldier  as  a  secondary  punishment.  Indeed,  the  principle 
which  pervaded  Frederick's  whole  policy  was  this,  that  the 
more  severe  the  army  is  governed,  the  safer  it  is  to  treat 
the  rest  of  the  community  with  lenity. 

Religious  persecution  was  unknown  under  his  govern- 
ment, unless  some  foolish  and  unjust  restrictions  which 
lay  upon  the  Jews  may  be  regarded  as  forming  an  exception. 
His  policy  with  respect  to  the  Catholics  of  Silesia  presented 
an  honorable  contrast  to  the  policy  which,  under  very  similar 
circumstances,  England  long  followed  with  respect  to  the 
Catholics  of  Ireland.  Every  form  of  religion  and  irre- 
ligion  found  an  asylum  in  his  states.  The  scoffer  whom 
the  Parliament  of  France  had  sentenced  to  a  cruel  death, 

17 


258  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

was  consoled  by  a  commission  in  the  Prussian  service. 
The  Jesuit  who  could  show  his  face  nowhere  else,  who  in 
Britain  was  still  subject  to  penal  laws,  who  was  proscribed 
by  France,  Spain,  Portugal,  and  Naples,  who  had  been 
given  up  even  by  the  Vatican,  found  safety  and  the  means 
of  subsistence  in  the  Prussian  dominions. 


Frederick's  first  battle  was  fought  at  Molwitz ;  and 
never  did  the  career  of  a  great  commander  open  in  a  more 
inauspicious  manner.  His  army  was  victorious.  Not  only, 
however,  did  he  not  establish  his  title  to  the  character  of  an 
able  general ;  but  he  was  so  unfortunate  as  to  make  it  doubt- 
ful whether  he  possessed  the  vulgar  courage  of  a  soldier. 
The  cavalry,  which  he  commanded  in  person,  was  put  to 
flight.  Unaccustomed  to  the  tumult  and  carnage  of  a  field 
of  battle,  he  lost  his  self-possession,  and  listened  too  read- 
ily to  those  who  urged  him  to  save  himself.  His  English 
gray  carried  him  many  miles  from  the  field,  while  Schwerin, 
though  wounded  in  two  places,  manfully  upheld  the  day. 
The  skill  of  the  old  Field-Marshal  and  the  steadiness  of 
the  Prussian  battalions  prevailed ;  and  the  Austrian  army 
was  driven  from  the  field  with  the  loss  of  eight  thousand 
men. 

The  news  was  carried  late  at  night  to  a  mill  in  which 
the  King  had  taken  shelter.  It  gave  him  a  bitter  pang.  He 
was  successful ;  but  he  owed  his  success  to  dispositions  which 
others  had  made,  and  to  the  valor  of  men  who  had  fought 
while  he  was  flying.  So  unpromising  was  the  first  appear- 
ance of  the  greatest  warrior  of  that  age. 

The  battle  of  Molwitz  was  the  signal  for  a  general  ex- 
plosion throughout  Europe.  Bavaria  took  up  arms,  France, 
not  yet  declaring  herself  a  principal  in  the  war,  took  part  in 
it  as  an  ally  of  Bavaria.  The  two  great  statesmen  to  whom 
mankind  had  owed  many  years  of  tranquillity,  disappeared 
about  this  time  from  the  scene,  but  not  till  they  had  both 
been  guilty  of  the  weakness  of  sacrificing  their  sense  of 
justice  and  their  love  of  peace  to  the  vain  hope  of  preserv- 
ing their  power.  Fleury,  sinking  under  age  and  infirmity, 
was  borne  down  by  the  impetuosity  of  Belle-Isle.  Walpole 
retired  from  the  service  of  his  ungrateful  country  to  his 


FREDERICK   THE   GREAT   OF   PRUSSIA.  259 

woods  and  paintings  at  Houghton;  and  his  power  devolved 
on  the  daring  and  eccentric  Carteret.  As  were  the  minis- 
ters, so  were  the  nations.  Thirty  years  during  which 
Europe  had,  with  few  interruptions,  enjoyed  peace,  had 
prepared  the  public  mind  for  great  military  efforts.  A  new 
generation  had  grown  up,  which  could  not  remember  the 
siege  of  Turin  or  the  slaughter  of  Malplaquet,  which  knew 
war  by  nothing  but  its  trophies,  and  which,  while  it  looked 
with  pride  on  the  tapestries  of  Blenheim  or  the  statue  in 
the  Place  of  Victories,  little  thought  by  what  privations, 
by  what  waste  of  private  fortunes,  by  how  many  bitter  tears, 
conquests  must  be  purchased. 

For  a  time,  fortune  seemed  adverse  to  the  Queen  of 
Hungary.  Frederick  invaded  Moravia.  The  French  and 
Bavarians  penetrated  into  Bohemia,  and  were  there  joined 
by  the  Saxons.  Prague  was  taken.  The  Elector  of  Bavaria 
was  raised  by  the  suffrages  of  his  colleagues  to  the  imperial 
throne,  a  throne  which  the  practice  of  centuries  had  almost 
entitled  the  house  of  Austria  to  regard  as  a  hereditary 
possession. 

Yet  was  the  spirit  of  the  haughty  daughter  of  the 
Caesars  unbroken.  Hungary  was  still  hers  by  an  unques- 
tionable title ;  and  although  her  ancestors  had  found  Hun- 
gary the  most  mutinous  of  all  their  kingdoms,  she  resolved 
to  trust  herself  to  the  fidelity  of  a  people,  rude  indeed,  tur- 
bulent, and  impatient  of  oppression,  but  brave,  generous,  and 
simple-hearted.  In  the  midst  of  distress  and  peril  she  had 
given  birth  to  a  son,  afterward  the  Emperor  Joseph  II. 
Scarcely  had  she  risen  from  her  couch  when  she  hastened 
to  Pressburg.  There  in  the  sight  of  an  innumerable  multi- 
tude she  was  crowned  with  the  crown  and  robed  with  the 
robe  of  St.  Stephen.  No  spectator  could  restrain  his  tears 
when  the  beautiful  young  mother,  still  weak  from  child- 
bearing,  rode,  after  the  fashion  of  her  fathers,  up  the  Mount 
of  Defiance,  unsheathed  the  ancient  sword  of  state,  shook 
it  towards  the  north  and  south,  east  and  west,  and  with  a 
glow  upon  her  pale  face  challenged  the  four  corners  of  the 
world  to  dispute  her  rights  and  those  of  her  boy.  At  the 
first  sitting  of  the  Diet  she  appeared  clad  in  deep  mourning 
for  her  father,  and  in  pathetic  and  dignified  words  implored 
her  people  to  support  her  just  cause.  Magnates  and  deputies 


260  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

sprang  up,  half  drew  their  sabers,  and  with  eager  voices 
vowed  to  stand  by  her  with  their  lives  and  their  fortunes. 
Till  then  her  firmness  had  never  once  forsaken  her  before 
the  public  eye ;  but  at  that  shout  she  sank  down  upon  her 
throne,  and  wept  aloud.  Still  more  touching  was  the  sight 
when  a  few  days  later  she  came  before  the  estates  of  her 
realm,  and  held  up  before  them  the  little  Archduke  in  her 
arms.  Then  it  was  that  the  enthusiasm  of  Hungary  broke 
forth  into  that  war-cry  which  soon  resounded  throughout 
Europe,  "  Let  us  die  for  our  King,  Maria  Theresa !  " 

In  the  mean  time,  Frederick  was  meditating  a  change  of 
policy.  He  had  no  wish  to  raise  France  to  supreme  power 
on  the  Continent  at  the  expense  of  the  house  of  Habsburg. 
His  first  object  was  to  rob  the  Queen  of  Hungary.*  His 
second  object  was  that,  if  possible,  nobody  should  rob  her 
but  himself.  He  had  entered  into  engagements  with  the 
powers  leagued  against  Austria;  but  these  engagements 
were  in  his  estimation  of  no  more  force  than  the  guarantee 
formerly  given  to  the  Pragmatic  Sanction.  His  plan  now 
was  to  secure  his  share  of  the  plunder  by  betraying  his  ac- 
complices. Maria  Theresa  was  little  inclined  to  listen 
to  any  such  compromise;  but  the  English  government 
represented  to  her  so  strongly  the  necessity  of  buying  off 
Frederick  that  she  agreed  to  negotiate.  The  negotiation 
would  not,  however,  have  ended  in  a  treaty,  had  not  the 
arms  of  Frederick  been  crowned  with  a  second  victory. 
Prince  Charles  of  Lorraine,  brother-in-law  to  Maria  Theresa, 
a  bold  and  active,  though  unfortunate  general,  gave  battle 
to  the  Prussians  at  Chotusitz  and  was  defeated.  The  King 
was  still  only  a  learner  of  the  military  art.  He  acknowl- 
edged, at  a  later  period,  that  his  success  on  this  occasion 
was  to  be  attributed,  not  at  all  to  his  own  generalship,  but 
solely  to  the  valor  and  steadiness  of  his  troops.  He  com- 
pletely effaced,  however,  by  his  personal  courage  and  energy, 
the  stain  which  Molwitz  had  left  on  his  reputation. 

*  The  severe  criticism  to  which  Macaulay  here  and  elsewhere 
subjects  Frederick  is  unmerited,  and  the  student  should  com- 
pare on  this  point  what  "  Carlyle "  has  to  say,  and  read  the 
article  on  Frederick  in  the  Britannica  or  some  other  good  en- 
cyclopedia. Macaulay  permits  the  desire  for  striking  and  bril- 
liant writing  to  carry  him  away  to  be  less  concerned  about  the 
exact  truth. — M.  S. 


FREDERICK   THE   GREAT   OF   PRUSSIA.  261 

A  peace,  concluded  under  the  English  mediation,  was 
the  fruit  of  this  battle,  Maria  Theresa  ceded  Silesia; 
Frederick  abandoned  his  allies;  Saxony  followed  his  ex- 
ample, and  the  Queen  was  left  at  liberty  to  turn  her  whole 
force  against  France  and  Bavaria.  She  was  everywhere 
triumphant.  The  French  were  compelled  to  evacuate  Bo- 
hemia, and  with  difficulty  effected  their  escape.  The  whole 
line  of  their  retreat  might  be  tracked  by  the  corpses  of  thou- 
sands who  had  died  of  cold,  fatigue,  and  hunger.  Many  of 
those  who  reached  their  own  country  carried  with  them  the 
seeds  of  death.  Bavaria  was  overrun  by  bands  of  ferocious 
warriors  from  that  bloody  debatable  land  which  lies  on  the 
frontier  between  Christendom  and  Islam.  The  terrible 
names  of  the  Pandoor,  the  Croat,  and  the  Hussar,  then  first 
became  familiar  to  Western  Europe.  The  unfortunate 
Charles  of  Bavaria,  vanquished  by  Austria,  betrayed  by 
Prussia,  driven  from  his  hereditary  states,  and  neglected  by 
his  allies,  was  hurried  by  shame  and  remorse  to  an  untimely 
end.  An  English  army  appeared  in  the  heart  of  Germany, 
and  defeated  the  French  at  Dettingen.  The  Austrian  cap- 
tains already  began  to  talk  of  completing  the  work  of 
Marlborough  and  Eugene,  and  of  compelling  France  to  re- 
linquish Alsace  and  the  three  Bishoprics. 

The  court  of  Versailles,  in  this  peril,  looked  to  Fred- 
erick for  help.  He  had  been  guilty  of  two  great  treasons; 
perhaps  he  might  be  induced  to  commit  a  third.  The  Duchess 
of  Chateauroux  then  held  the  chief  influence  over  the  feeble 
Louis.  She  determined  to  send  an  agent  to  Berlin;  and 
Voltaire  was  selected  for  the  mission.  He  eagerly  under- 
took the  task;  for  while  his  literary  fame  filled  all  Europe, 
he  was  troubled  with  a  childish  craving  for  political  dis- 
tinction. He  was  vain,  and  not  without  reason,  of  his 
address  and  his  insinuating  eloquence ;  and  he  flattered  him- 
self that  he  possessed  boundless  influence  over  the  King  of 
Prussia.  The  truth  was  that  he  knew,  as  yet,  only  one  corner 
of  Frederick's  character.  He  was  well  acquainted  with  all 
the  petty  vanities  and  affectations  of  the  poetaster,  but  was 
not  aware  that  these  foibles  were  united  with  all  the  talents 
and  vices  which  lead  to  success  in  active  life,  and  that  the 
unlucky  versifier  who  pestered  him  with  reams  of  middling 
Alexandrines,  was  the  vigilant  suspicious,  and  severe  of 
politicians. 


262  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

Voltaire  was  received  with  every  mark  of  respect  and 
friendship,  was  lodged  in  the  palace,  and  had  a  seat  daily  at 
the  royal  table.  The  negotiation  was  of  an  extraordinary 
description.  Nothing  can  be  conceived  more  whimsical  than 
the  conference  which  took  place  between  the  first  literary 
man  and  the  first  practical  man  of  the  age,  whom  a  strange 
weakness  had  induced  to  exchange  their  parts.  The  great 
poet  would  talk  of  nothing  but  treaties  and  guarantees,  and 
the  great  King  of  nothing  but  metaphors  and  rhymes.  On 
one  occasion  Voltaire  put  into  his  Majesty's  hands  a  paper 
on  the  state  of  Europe,  and  received  it  back  with  verses 
scrawled  on  the  margin.  In  secret  they  both  laughed  at  each 
other.  Voltaire  did  not  spare  the  King's  poems;  and  the 
King  has  left  on  record  his  opinion  of  Voltaire's  diplomacy. 
"  He  had  no  credentials,"  says  Frederick,  "  and  the  whole 
mission  was  a  joke,  a  mere  farce." 

But  what  the  influence  of  Voltaire  could  not  effect,  the 
rapid  progress  of  Austrian  arms  effected.  If  it  should  be 
in  the  power  of  Maria  Theresa  and  George  II  to  dictate 
terms  of  peace  to  France,  what  chance  was  there  that 
Prussia  would  long  retain  Silesia?  Frederick's  conscience 
told  him  that  he  had  acted  perfidiously  and  inhumanly  to- 
ward the  Queen  of  Hungary.  That  her  resentment  was 
strong  she  had  given  ample  proof;  and  of  her  respect  for 
treaties  he  judged  by  his  own.  Guarantees,  he  said,  were 
mere  filigree,  pretty  to  look  at,  but  too  brittle  to  bear  the 
slightest  pressure.  He  thought  it  his  safest  course  to  ally 
himself  closely  to  France,  and  again  to  attack  the  Empress 
Queen.  Accordingly,  into  the  autumn  of  1744,  without 
notice,  without  any  decent  pretext,  he  recommenced  hostili- 
ties, marched  through  the  electorate  of  Saxony  without 
troubling  himself  about  the  permission  of  the  Elector,  in- 
vaded Bohemia,  took  Prague,  and  even  menaced  Vienna. 

It  was  now  that,  for  the  first  time,  he  experienced  the  in- 
constancy of  fortune.  An  Austrian  army  under  Charles 
of  Lorraine  threatened  his  communication  with  Silesia. 
Saxony  was  all  in  arms  behind  him.  He  found  it  necessary 
to  save  himself  by  a  retreat.  He  afterwards  owned  that 
his  failure  was  the  natural  effect  of  his  own  blunders.  No- 
general,  he  said,  had  ever  committed  greater  faults.  It 
must  be  added  that  to  the  reverses  of  this  campaign  he  al- 


GEORGE   WASHINGTON.  265 

ways  ascribed  his  subsequent  successes.  It  was  in  the  midst 
of  difficulty  and  disgrace  that  he  caught  the  first  clear 
glimpses  of  the  principles  of  the  military  art. 

The  memorable  year  1745  followed.  The  war  raged  by 
sea  and  land,  in  Italy,  in  Germany,  and  in  Flanders;  and 
even  England,  after  many  years  of  profound  internal  quiet, 
saw,  for  the  first  time,  hostile  armies  set  in  battle  array 
against  each  other.  This  year  is  memorable  in  the  life  of 
Frederick,  as  the  date  at  which  his  novitiate  in  the  art  of 
war  may  be  said  to  have  terminated.  There  have  been  great 
captains  whose  precocious  and  self-taught  military  skill  re- 
sembled intuition.  Conde,  Clive,  and  Napoleon  are  examples. 
But  Frederick  was  not  one  of  these  brilliant  portents.  His 
proficiency  in  military  science  was  simply  the  proficiency 
which  a  man  of  vigorous  faculties  makes  in  any  science  to- 
which  he  applies  his  mind  with  earnestness  and  industry. 
It  was  at  Hohenfriedberg  that  he  first  proved  how  much  he 
had  profited  by  his  errors,  and  by  their  consequences.  His 
victory  on  that  day  was  chiefly  due  to  his  skillful  disposi- 
tions, and  convinced  Europe  that  the  young  prince  who,  a 
few  years  before,  had  stood  aghast  in  the  route  of  Molwitz, 
had  attained  in  the  military  art  a  mastery  equaled  by  none 
of  his  contemporaries,  or  equaled  by  Saxe  alone.  The  victory 
of  Hohenfriedberg  was  speedily  followed  by  that  of  Sorr. 


George  Washington. 

Irving's  Life  of  Washington. 

Americans  have  every  reason  to  congratulate  themselves 
that  Irving  wrote  the  Life  of  Washington;  for  Irving's  style 
and  manner  of  expression  are  unsurpassed  for  historical  narra- 
tive, and  nowhere  is  it  seen  to  better  advantage  than  in  the 
portrayal  of  this  most  excellent  man,  the  "  Father  of  his 
country,"  George  Washington.  Amid  the  most  primitive  cir- 
cumstances and  the  most  trying  conditions  we  see  Washington 
patiently  overcoming  difficulties  and  manfully  meeting  adversity, 
rising  superior  to  triumphs,  and  leading  an  infant  nation  to- 
victory.  Simplicity  and  strength,  dignity  and  humility,  self- 
control  and  persevering  action,  are  characteristics  that  shine 
forth  in  this  grand  character.  He  was,  moreover,  a  regular 
attendant  upon  divine  worship,  and  we  have  no  reason  to  doubt 
that  he  was  an  earnest  Christian. 


264  THE  VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

It  was  in  the  month  of  March  (1748),  and  just  after  he 
had  completed  his  sixteenth  year,  that  Washington  set  out 
on  horseback  on  this  surveying  expedition,  in  company  with 
George  William  Fairfax.  Their  route  lay  by  Ashley's  Gap, 
a  pass  through  the  Blue  Ridge,  that  beautiful  line  of  moun- 
tains which,  as  yet,  almost  formed  the  western  frontier  of 
inhabited  Virginia.  Winter  still  lingered  on  the  top  of  the 
mountains,  whence  melting  snows  sent  down  torrents,  which 
swelled  the  rivers  and  occasionally  rendered  them  almost 
impassable.  Spring,  however,  was  softening  the  lower  parts 
and  smiling  in  the  valleys. 

They  entered  the  great  valley  of  Virginia,  where  it  is 
about  twenty-five  miles  wide;  a  lovely  and  temperate  region, 
diversified  by  gentle  swells  and  slopes,  admirably  adapted 
to  cultivation.  The  Blue  Ridge  bounds  it  on  one  side,  the 
North  Mountain,  a  ridge  of  the  Alleghenies,  on  the  other, 
while  through  it  flows  that  bright  and  abounding  river, 
which,  on  account  of  its  surpassing  beauty,  was  named  by 
the  Indians  the  Shenandoah — that  is  to  say,  "  the  daughter 
of  the  stars." 

The  first  station  of  the  travelers  was  a  kind  of  lodge  in 
the  wilderness,  where  the  steward,  or  land-bailiff,  of  Lord 
Fairfax  resided,  with  such  negroes  as  were  required  for 
farming  purposes,  and  which  Washington  terms  "  his  lord- 
ship's quarters."  It  was  situated  not  far  from  the  Shenan- 
doah, and  about  twelve  miles  from  the  site  of  the  present 
town  of  Winchester. 

In  a  diary  kept  with  the  usual  minuteness,  Washington 
speaks  with  delight  of  the  beauty  of  the  trees  and  the  rich- 
ness of  the  land  in  the  neighborhood,  and  of  his  riding 
through  a  noble  grove  of  sugar  maples  on  the  banks  of  the 
Shenandoah ;  and  at  the  present  day  the  magnificence  of  the 
forests  which  still  exist  in  this  favored  region  justifies  his 
eulogium. 

*          '  *  * 

His  surveys  commenced  in  the  lower  part  of  the  valley, 
some  distance  above  the  junction  of  the  Shenandoah  with 
the  Potomac,  and  extended  for  many  miles  along  the  former 
river.  Here  and  there  partial  "  clearings  "  had  been  made 
by  squatters  and  hardy  pioneers,  and  their  rude  husbandry 
had  produced  abundant  crops  of  grain,  hemp,  and  tobacco; 


GEORGE   WASHINGTON.  265 

civilization,  however,  had  hardly  yet  entered  the  valley,  if 
we  may  judge  from  the  note  of  a  night's  lodging  at  the 
house  of  one  of  the  settlers — Captain  Kite — near  the  site 
of  the  present  town  of  Winchester.  Here,  after  supper, 
most  of  the  company  stretched  themselves  in  backwoods 
style  before  the  fire ;  but  Washington  was  shown  into  a 
bedroom.  Fatigued  with  a  hard  day's  work  at  surveying,  he 
soon  undressed;  but  instead  of  being  nestled  between  sheets 
in  a  comfortable  bed,  as  at  the  maternal  home  or  at  Mount 
Vernon,  he  found  himself  on  a  couch  of  matted  straw,  under 
a  threadbare  blanket,  swarming  with  unwelcome  bedfellows. 
After  tossing  about  for  a  few  moments,  he  was  glad  to  put  on 
his  clothes  again,  and  rejoin  his  companions  before  the  fire. 

Such  was  his  first  experience  of  life  in  the  wilderness ; 
he  soon,  however,  accustomed  himself  to  "  rough  it,"  and 
adapt  himself  to  fare  of  all  kinds,  though  he  generally  pre- 
ferred a  bivouac  before  a  fire,  in  the  open  air,  to  the  accom- 
modations of  -a  woodman's  cabin.  Proceeding  down  the 
valley  to  the  banks  of  the  Potomac,  they  found  that  river  so 
much  swollen  by  the  rain  which  had  fallen  among  the  Alle- 
ghenies  as  to  be  unfordable.  To  while  away  the  time  till 
it  should  subside,  they  made  an  excursion  to  examine  certain 
warm  springs  in  the  valley  among  the  mountains,  since 
called  the  Berkeley  Springs.  There  they  camped  for  the 
night,  under  the  stars;  the  diary  makes  no  complaint  of 
their  accommodations;  and  their  camping  ground  is  now 
known  as  Bath,  one  of  the  favorite  watering-places  of 
Virginia.  One  of  the  warm  springs  was  subsequently  ap- 
propriated by  Lord  Fairfax  to  his  own  use,  and  still  bears 
his  name. 

After  watching  in  vain  for  the  river  to  subside,  they 
procured  a  canoe  on  which  they  crossed  to  the  Maryland 
side,  swimming  their  horses.  A  weary  day's  ride  of  forty 
miles  up  the  left  side  of  the  river,  in  a  continual  rain,  and 
over  what  Washington  pronounces  the  worst  road  ever  trod 
by  man  or  beast,  brought  them  to  the  house  of  Colonel  Cresap, 
opposite  the  south  branch  of  the  Potomac,  where  they  put 
up  for  the  night. 

Here  they  were  detained  three  or  four  days  by  inclement 
weather.  On  the  second  day  they  were  surprised  by  the 
appearance  of  a  war  party  of  Indians,  bearing  a  scalp  as  a 


266  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

trophy.  A  little  liquor  procured  the  spectacle  of  a  war  dance. 
A  large  place  was  cleared,  and  a  fire  made  in  the  center 
round  which  the  warriors  took  their  seats.  The  principal 
orator  made  a  speech,  reciting  their  recent  exploits,  and 
rousing  them  to  triumph.  One  of  the  warriors  started  up  as 
if  from  sleep,  and  began  a  series  of  movements,  half  gro- 
tesque, half  tragical ;  the  rest  followed.  For  music  one 
savage  drummed  on  a  deer  skin,  stretched  over  a  pot  half 
filled  with  water;  another  rattled  a  gourd,  containing  a  few 
shot,  and  decorated  with  a  horse's  tail.  Their  strange  out- 
cries and  uncouth  forms  and  garbs,  seen  by  the  glare  of  the 
fire,  and  their  whoops  and  yells,  made  them  appear  more 
like  demons  than  human  beings.  All  this  savage  gambol 
was  no  novelty  to  Washington's  companions,  experienced 
in  frontier  life;  but  to  the  youth,  fresh  from  school,  it  was 
a  strange  spectacle,  which  he  sat  contemplating  with  deep 
interest  and  carefully  noted  down  in  his  journal.  It  will  be 
found  that  he  soon  made  himself  acquainted  with  the  savage 
character,  and  became  expert  in  dealing  with  these  inhabit- 
ants of  the  wilderness. 

From  this  encampment  the  party  proceeded  to  the  mouth 
of  Patterson's  Creek,  where  they  recrossed  the  river  in  a 
canoe,  swimming  their  horses  as  before.  More  than  two 
weeks  were  now  passed  by  them  in  the  wild  mountainous 
regions  of  Frederick  County,  and  about  the  south  branch  of 
the  Potomac,  surveying  lands  and  laying  out  lots,  camped 
out  the  greater  part  of  the  time,  and  subsisting  on  wild 
turkey  and  other  game.  Each  one  was  his  own  cook ; 
forked  sticks  served  as  spits  and  chips  of  wood  for  dishes. 
The  weather  was  unsettled.  At  one  time  their  tent  was 
"blown  down;  at  another  they  were  driven  out  of  it  by 
smoke;  now  they  were  drenched  with  rain,  and  now  the 
straw  on  which  Washington  was  sleeping  caught  fire,  and  he 
was  awakened  by  a  companion  just  in  time  to  escape  a 
scorching. 

The  only  variety  to  this  camp  life  was  a  supper  at  the 
"house  of  one  Solomon  Hedge,  Esquire,  His  Majesty's  justice 
of  the  peace,  where  there  were  no  forks  at  the  table,  nor  any 
knives  but  such  as  the  guests  brought  in  their  pockets.  Dur- 
ing their  surveys  they  were  followed  by  numbers  of  people, 
some  of  them  squatters,  anxious,  doubtless,  to  procure  a 


GEORGE   WASHINGTON.  267 

cheap  title  to  the  land  they  had  appropriated;  others,  Ger- 
man emigrants,  with  their  wives  and  children,  seeking  a 
new  home  in  the  wilderness.  Most  of  the  latter  could  not 
speak  English ;  but  when  spoken  to  answered  in  their  native 
tongue.  They  appeared  to  Washington  ignorant  as  Indians 
and  uncouth,  but  "  merry  and  full  of  antic  tricks."  Such 
were  the  progenitors  of  the  sturdy  yeomanry  now  inhabit- 
ing those  parts,  many  of  whom  still  preserve  their  strong 
German  characteristics. 

"  I  have  not  slept  above  three  or  four  nights  in  a  bed," 
writes  Washington  to  one  of  his  young  friends  at  homer 
"  but  after  walking  a  good  deal  all  the  day  I  have  lain  down 
before  the  fire  upon  a  little  straw  or  fodder,  or,  a  bear-skin,, 
whichever  was  to  be  had,  with  man,  wife,  and  children, 
like  dogs  and  cats ;  and  happy  is  he  who  gets  the  berth 
nearest  the  fire." 

Having  completed  his  surveys,  he  set  forth  from  the  south 
branch  of  the  Potomac  on  his  return  homeward,  crossed  the 
mountains  to  the  great  Cacapehon,  traversed  the  Shenandoah 
Valley,  passed  through  the  Blue  Ridge,  and  on  the  I2th  of 
April  found  himself  once  more  at  Mount  Vernon.  For  his 
services  he  received,  according  to  his  note-book,  a  doubloon 
per  day  when  actively  engaged,  and  sometimes  six  pistoles.* 

The  manner  in  which  he  acquitted  himself  in  this  arduous 
expedition,  and  his  accounts  of  the  country  surveyed,  gave 
great  satisfaction  to  Lord  Fairfax,  who  shortly  afterward 
moved  across  the  Blue  Ridge,  and  took  up  his  residence  at 
the  place  heretofore  noted  as  his  "  quarters."  Here  he  laid 
out  a  manor,  containing  ten  thousand  acres  of  arable  grazing 
lands,  vast  meadows,  and  noble  forests,  and  projected  a  spa- 
cious manor  house,  giving  to  the  place  the  name  of  Green- 
way  Court. 

It  was  probably  through  the  influence  of  Lord  Fairfax 
that  Washington  received  the  appointment  of  public  sur- 
veyor. This  conveyed  authority  on  his  surveys,  and  entitled 
them  to  be  recorded  in  the  county  offices ;  and  so  invariably 
correct  have  these  surveys  been  found  that,  to  this  day, 
wherever  any  of  them  stand  on  record,  they  receive  implicit 
credit. 


*A  pistole  is  $3.60. 


268  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

For  three  years  he  continued  in  this  occupation,  which 
proved  extremely  profitable,  from  the  vast  extent  of  country 
to  be  surveyed  and  the  very  limited  number  of  public  sur- 
veyors. It  made  him  acquainted,  also,  with  the  country,  the 
nature  of  the  soil  in  various  parts,  and  the  value  of  locali- 
ties; all  which  proved  advantageous  to  him  in  his  purchases 
in  after  years.  Many  of  the  finest  parts  of  the  Shenandoah 
Valley  are  yet  owned  by  members  of  the  Washington  family. 

While  thus  employed  for  months  at  a  time  surveying  the 
lands  beyond  the  Blue  Ridge,  he  was  often  an  inmate  of 
Greenway  Court.  The  projected  manor  house  was  never  even 
commenced.  On  a  green  knoll  overshadowed  by  trees  was  a 
long  stone  building  one  story  in  height,  with  dormer  win- 
dows, two  wooden  belfries,  chimneys  studded  with  swallow 
and  martin  coops,  and  a  roof  sloping  down  in  the  old  Virginia 
fashion,  into  low  projecting  eaves  that  formed  a  veranda  the 
whole  length  of  the  house.  It  was  probably  the  house  orig- 
inally occupied  by  the  steward  or  land-agent,  but  was  now 
devoted  to  hospitable  purposes  and  the  reception  of  guests. 
As  to  his  lordship,  it  was  one  of  his  many  eccentricities  that 
he  never  slept  in  the  main  edifice,  but  lodged  apart  in  a  wood 
house  not  much  above  twelve  feet  square.  In  a  small  build- 
ing was  his  office,  where  quit-rents  were  given,  deeds  drawn, 
and  business  transacted  with  his  tenants. 

About  the  knoll  were  outhouses  for  his  numerous  servants, 
black  and  white,  with  stables  for  saddle-horses  and  hunters, 
and  kennels  for  his  hounds;  for  his  lordship  retained  his 
keen  hunting  propensities,  and  the  neighborhood  abounded 
in  game.  Indians  and  half-breeds,  and  leathern-clad  wood- 
men loitered  about  the  place,  and  partook  of  the  abundance 
of  the  kitchen.  His  lordship's  table  was  plentiful  but  plain, 
and  served  in  the  English  fashion. 

Here  Washington  had  full  opportunity,  in  the  proper 
seasons,  of  indulging  his  fondness  for  field  sports,  and  once 
more  accompanying  his  lordship  in  the  chase.  The  conver- 
sation of  Lord  Fairfax,  too,  was  full  of  interest  and  instruc- 
tion to  an  inexperienced  youth,  from  his  cultivated  talents, 
his  literary  taste,  and  his  past  intercourse  with  the  best 
society  of  Europe,  and  its  most  distinguished  authors.  He 
had  brought  books,  too,  with  him  into  the  wilderness,  and 


GEORGE   WASHINGTON.  269 

from  Washington's  diary  we  find  that  during  his  sojourn 
here  he  was  diligently  reading  the  history  of  England  and 
the  essays  of  the  Spectator. 

Such  was  Greenway  Court  in  these  its  palmy  days.  We 
visited  it  recently  and  found  it  tottering  to  its  fall,  moldering 
rn  the  midst  of  a  magnificent  country,  where  nature  still 
flourishes  in  full  luxuriance  and  beauty. 

Three  or  four  years  were  thus  passed  by  Washington, 
the  greater  part  of  the  time  beyond  the  Blue  Ridge,  but  oc- 
casionally with  his  brother  Lawrence  at  Mount  Vernon. 
His  rugged  and  toilsome  expeditions  in  the  mountains, 
among  rude  scenes  and  rough  people,  inured  him  to  hard- 
ships, and  made  him  apt  at  expedients ;  while  his  intercourse 
with  his  cultivated  brother,  and  with  the  various  members 
of  the  Fairfax  family,  had  a  happy  effect  in  toning  up  his 
mind  and  manners,  and  counteracting  the  careless  and  self- 
indulgent  habitudes  of  the  wilderness. 

We  subjoin  several  extracts  from  the  letters  of  Washing- 
ton from  which  the  reader  will  obtain  some  insight  into  the 
discouragements  and  difficulties  which  confronted  him,  and 
which  would  have  disconcerted  many  a  one  less  devoted  and 
spirited  than  that  noble  patriot.  While  he  and  his  army 
were  in  their  sad  plight  in  the  winter  of  1776-1777  he  wrote 
to  Congress: — 

To  THE  PRESIDENT  OF  CONGRESS. 
Camp,  Above  Trenton  Falls,  20  December,  1776. 
Sir, 

I  have  waited  with  much  impatience  to  know  the 
determination  of  Congress  on  the  propositions,  made  some 
time  in  October  last,  for  augmenting  our  corps  of  artillery 
and  establishing  a  corps  of  engineers.  The  time  is  now 
come  when  the  first  cannot  be  delayed  without  the  greatest 
injury  to  the  safety  of  these  states;  and,  therefore,  under 
resolution  of  Congress  bearing  date  the  I2th  instant,  at  the 
repeated  instances  of  Colonel  Knox,  and  by  the  pressing 
advice  of  all  the  general  officers  now  here,  I  have  ventured 
to  order  three  battalions  of  artillery  to  be  immediately  re- 
cruited. 

*  *  * 

The  pay  of  our  artillerists  bearing  no  proportion  to  that 
in  the  English  or  French  service,  the  murmuring  and  dis- 


270  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

satisfaction  thereby  occasioned,  the  absolute  impossibility,  I 
am  told,  of  getting  them  upon  the  old  terms,  and  the  un- 
avoidable necessity  of  obtaining  them  at  all  events,  have  in- 
duced me,  also  by  advice,  to  promise  officers  and  men  that 
their  pay  shall  be  augmented  twenty-five  per  cent.,  or  their 
engagements  shall  become  null  and  void.  This  may  appear 
to  Congress  premature  and  unwarrantable.  But,  Sir,  if  they 
view  our  situation  in  the  light  it  strikes  their  officers,  they 
will  be  convinced  of  the  utility  of  the  measure,  and  that  the 
•execution  could  not  be  delayed  till  after  their  meeting  in 
Baltimore.  In  short,  the  present  exigency  of  our  affairs  will 
not  admit  of  delay,  either  in  council  or  in  the  field ;  for  well 
convinced  I  am  that,  if  the  enemy  go  into  quarters  at  all,  it 
will  be  for  a  short  season.  But  I  rather  think  the  design 
of  General  Howe  is  to  possess  himself  of  Philadelphia  this 
-winter,  if  possible ;  and  in  truth  I  do  not  see  what  is  to  pre- 
vent him,  as  ten  days  more  will  put  an  end  to  the  existence 
of  our  army.  That  one  great  point  is  to  keep  us  as  much 
harassed  as  possible,  with  a  view  to  injure  the  recruiting 
service  and  hinder  a  collection  of  stores  and  other  neces- 
saries for  the  next  campaign.  If,  therefore,  in  the  short  in- 
terval in  which  we  have  to  provide  for  and  make  these  great 
and  arduous  preparations,  every  matter  that  in  its  nature  is 
self-evident  is  to  be  referred  to  Congress,  at  the  distance 
of  a  hundred  and  thirty  or  forty  miles,  so  much  time  must 
necessarily  elapse  as  to  defeat  the  end  in  view. 

It  may  be  said  that  this  is  an  application  for  powers  that 
are  too  dangerous  to  be  entrusted.  I  can  only  add  that 
desperate  diseases  require  desperate  remedies;  and  I  with 
truth  declare  that  I  have  no  lust  after  power,  but  I  wish  as 
any  man  upon  this  wide-extended  continent  for  an  oppor- 
tunity of  turning  the  sword  into  a  plowshare.  But  my  feel- 
ings as  an  officer  and  a  man,  have  been  such  as  to  force  me 
to  say  that  no  person  ever  had  a  greater  choice  of  difficulties 
to  contend  with  than  I  have.  It  is  needless  to  add  that  short 
enlistments  and  a  mistaken  dependence  upon  militia  have 
teen  the  origin  of  all  our  misfortunes,  and  the  great  accumu- 
lation of  our  debt.  We  find,  Sir,  that  the  enemy  are  daily 
gathering  strength  from  the  disaffected.  This  strength,  like 
a  snowball,  by  rolling  will  increase,  unless  some  means  can 
be  devised  to  check  effectually  the  progress  of  the  enemy's 


GEORGE   WASHINGTON.  271 

arms.  Militia  may  possibly  do  it  for  a  little  while;  but  in 
a  little  while,  also,  and  the  militia  of  those  states  which 
have  been  frequently  called  upon  will  not  turn  out  at  all; 
or,  if  they  do,  it  will  be  with  so  much  reluctance  and  sloth 
as  to  amount  to  the  same  thing.  Instance  New  Jersey !  Wit- 
ness Pennsylvania !  Could  anything  but  the  river  Delaware 
have  saved  Philadelphia?  Can  anything  (the  exigency  of 
the  case  indeed  may  justify  it)  be  more  destructive  service 
than  giving  ten  dollars  bounty  for  six  weeks'  service  of  the 
militia,  who  come  in,  you  cannot  tell  how,  go,  you  cannot  tell 
when,  and  act,  you  cannot  tell  where,  consume  your  pro- 
visions, exhaust  your  stores,  and  leave  you  at  last  at  a  critical 
moment  ? 

These.  Sir,  are  the  men  I  am  to  depend  upon  ten  days 
hence;  this  is  the  basis  on  which  your  cause  will  and  must 
forever  depend,  till  you  get  a  large  standing  army  sufficient 
of  itself  to  oppose  the  enemy.  I  therefore  beg  leave  to  give 
it  as  my  humble  opinion  that  eighty-eight  battalions  are  by 
no  means  equal  to  the  opposition  you  are  to  make,  and  that  a 
moment's  time  is  not  to  be  lost  in  raising  a  greater  number, 
not  less,  in  my  opinion  and  in  the  opinion  of  my  officers, 
than  a  hundred  and  ten.  It  may  be  urged  that  it  will  be 
found  difficult  enough  to  complete  the  first  number.  This 
may  be  true,  and  yet  the  officers  of  a  hundred  and  ten 
battalions  will  recruit  many  more  men  than  those  of  eighty- 
eight.  In  my  judgment  this  is  not  a  time  to  stand  upon  ex- 
pense; our  funds  are  not  the  only  object  of  consideration. 
The  state  of  New  York  has  added  one  battalion  (I  wish  they 
had  made  it  two)  to  their  quota.  If  any  good  officers  will 
offer  to  raise  men  upon  Continental  pay  and  establishment 
in  this  quarter,  I  shall  encourage  them  to  do  so,  and  regiment 
them  when  they  have  done  it.  If  Congress  disapprove  of 
this  proceeding,  they  will  please  to  signify  it,  as  I  mean  it 
for  the  best.  It  may  be  thought  that  I  am  going  a  good 
deal  out  of  the  line  of  my  duty  to  adopt  these  measures,  or 
to  advise  thus  freely.  A  character  to  lose,  an  estate  to  for- 
feit, the  inestimable  blessings  of  liberty  at  stake,  and  a  life 
devoted,  must  be  my  excuse. 

*  *  * 

Every  exertion  should  be  used  to  procure  tents;  a 
clothier-general  should  be  appointed  without  loss  of  time  for 


272  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

supplying  the  army  with  every  article  in  that  way;  he 
should  be  a  man  of  business  and  abilities.  A  commissary 
of  prisoners  must  be  appointed  to  attend  the  army ;  for  want 
of  an  officer  of  this  kind,  the  exchange  of  prisoners  has  been 
conducted  in  a  most  shameful  and  injurious  manner.  We 
have  had  them  from  all  quarters  pushed  into  our  camps  at 
the  most  critical  junctures,  and  without  the  least  previous 
notice.  We  have  had  them  traveling  through  the  different 
states  in  all  directions  by  certificates  from  committees,  with- 
out any  kind  of  control,  and  have  had  instances  of  some 
going  into  the  enemy's  camp  without  my  privity  or  knowl- 
edge, after  passing  in  the  manner  before  mentioned. 


I  have  labored,  ever  since  I  have  been  in  the  service,  to 
discourage  all  kinds  of  local  attachments  and  distinctions  of 
country,  denominating  the  whole  by  the  greater  name  of 
AMERICA,  but  I  have  found  it  impossible  to  overcome 
prejudices;  ancl,  under  the  new  establishment,  I  conceive,  it 
best  to  stir  up  an  emulation;  in  order  to  do  which,  would 
it  not  be  better  for  each  state  to  furnish,  though  not  to  ap- 
point, their  own  brigadiers?  This,  if  known  to  be  a  part  of 
the  establishment,  might  prevent  a  good  deal  of  contention 
and  jealousy,  and  would,  I  believe,  be  the  means  of  promo- 
tions going  forward  with  more  satisfaction,  and  quiet  the 
higher  officers.* 

"  It  is  useless,"  says  Mr.  Morris,  "  at  this  period  to  ex- 
amine into  the  causes  of  our  present  unhappy  situation,  un- 
less that  examination  would  be  productive  of  a  cure  for  the 
evils  which  surround  us.  In  fact,  those  causes  have  long 
been  known  to  such  as  would  open  their  eyes.  The  very  con- 
sequences were  foretold  and  the  measures  execrated  by  some 
of  the  best  friends  of  America;  but  in  vain;  an  obstinate 
partiality  to  the  habits  and  customs  of  one  part  of  this  con- 
tinent has  predominated  in  the  public  councils,  and  too  little 
attention  has  been  paid  to  others.  To  criminate  the  authors 
of  our  errors  would  not  avail,  but  we  cannot  see  ruin  staring 
us  in  the  face  without  thinking  of  them.  It  has  been  my 


*  The  evil  effects  which  had  sprung  from  local  prejudices  are 
strongly  described  in  a  letter  from  Robert  Morris  to  General 
Washington. 


GEORGE   WASHINGTON.  373 

fate  to  make  an  ineffectual  opposition  to  all  short  enlistments, 
to  colonial  appointment  of  officers,  and  to  many  other  meas- 
ures, which  I  thought  pregnant  with  mischief;  but  these 
things  either  suited  with  the  genius  and  habits,  or  squared 
with  the  interests  of  some  states  that  had  sufficient  influence 
to  prevail,  and  nothing  is  now  left  but  to  extricate  ourselves 
as  well  as  we  can."  — MS.  Letter,  December  23. 

(Extract  from  letter  of  Washington.  The  Writings  of 
Washington.  By  Jared  Sparks.  Vol.  IV,  p.  232.) 

This  is  the  letter  in  which  Washington  describes  to  Con- 
gress his  success  in  crossing  the  Delaware  and  surprising 
the  enemy,  taking  several  regiments  of  Hessians  prisoners 
who  had  there  encamped  in  winter  quarters: — 

To  THE  PRESIDENT  OF  CONGRESS. 
Headquarters,  Newtown,  27  December,  1776. 
Sir, 

.  I  have  the  pleasure  of  congratulating  you  upon  the 
success  of  an  enterprise  which  I  had  formed  against  a  de- 
tachment of  the  enemy  lying  in  Trenton,  and  which  was 
executed  yesterday  morning.  The  evening  of  the  25th  I 
ordered  the  troops  intended  for  this  service  to  parade  back  of 
McKonkey's  Ferry,  that  they  might  begin  to  pass  as  soon  as 
it  grew  dark,  imagining  that  we  should  be  able  to  throw 
them  all  over,  with  the  necessary  artillery,  by  twelve  o'clock, 
and  that  we  might  easily  arrive  at  Trenton  by  five  in  the 
morning,  the  distance  being  about  nine  miles.  But  the  quan- 
tity of  ice,  made  that  night,  impeded  the  passage  of  the  boats 
so  much  that  it  was  three  o'clock  before  the  artillery  could  all 
be  got  over;  and  near  four  before  the  troops  took  up  their 
line  of  march.  This  made  me  despair  of  surprising  the  town, 
as  I  well  knew  that  we  could  not  reach  it  before  the  day  was 
fairly  broke.  But  as  I  was  certain  there  was  no  making  a 
retreat  without  being  discovered  and  harassed  on  repassing 
the  river,  I  determined  to  push  on  at  all  events.  I  formed 
my  detachment  into  two  divisions,  one  to  march  by  the  lower 
or  river  road,  the  other  by  the  upper  or  Pennington  road. 
As  the  divisions  had  nearly  the  same  distance  to  march,  I 
ordered  each  of  them,  immediately  upon  forcing  the  out- 
guards,  to  push  directly  into  the  town,  that  they  might  charge 
the  enemy  before  they  had  time  to  form. 

18 


274  THE   VOICE   OF    HISTORY. 

The  upper  division  arrived  at  the  enemy's  advanced  post 
exactly  at  eight  o'clock ;  and  in  three  minutes  after  I  found, 
from  the  fire  on  the  lower  road,  that  that  division  had  got  up 
also.  The  outguards  made  but  small  opposition,  though,  for 
their  numbers,  they  behaved  very  well,  keeping  up  a  constant 
retreating  fire  from  behind  houses.  We  presently  saw  their 
main  body  formed ;  but,  from  their  motions,  they  seemed 
undetermined  how  to  act.  Being  hard-pressed  by  our  troops, 
who  had  already  got  possession  of  their  artillery,  they  at- 
tempted to  file  off  by  a  road  on  their  right,  leading  to  Prince- 
ton. But,  perceiving  their  intention,  I  threw  a  body  of  troops 
in  their  way,  which  immediately  checked  them.  Finding 
from  our  disposition  that  they  were  surrounded,  and  that 
they  must  inevitably  be  cut  to  pieces  if  they  made  any  fur- 
ther resistance,  they  agreed  to  lay  down  their  arms.  The 
number  that  submitted  in  this  manner  was  twenty-three 
officers  and  eight  hundred  and  eighty-six  men.  Colonel  Rahl, 
the  commanding  officer,  and  seven  others  were  found 
wounded  in  the  town.  I  do  not  exactly  know  how  many 
were  killed ;  but  I  fancy  not  above  twenty  or  thirty,  as  they 
never  made  any  regular  stand.  Our  loss  is  very  trifling  in- 
deed, only  two  officers  and  one  or  two  privates  wounded. 

I  find  that  the  detachment  of  the  enemy  consisted  of  three 
Hessian  regiments  of  Anspach,  Knyphausen,  and  Rahl, 
amounting  to  about  fifteen  hundred  men,  and  a  troop  of 
British  light-horse;  but,  immediately  upon  the  beginning  of 
the  attack,  all  those  who  were  not  killed  or  taken,  pushed 
directly  down  the  road  towards  Bordentown.  These  would 
likewise  have  fallen  into  our  hands,  could  my  plan  have  been 
completely  carried  into  execution.  General  Ewing  was  to 
have  crossed  before  day  at  Trenton  Ferry,  and  taking  pos- 
session of  the  bridge  leading  out  of  the  town;  but  the 
quantity  of  ice  was  so  great,  that,  though  he  did  everything 
in  his  power  to  effect  it,  he  could  not  get  over.  This  diffi- 
culty also  hindered  General  Cadwalader  from  crossing  with 
the  Pennsylvania  militia  from  Bristol.  He  got  part  of  hb 
foot  over;  but,  finding  it  impossible  to  embark  his  artillery, 
he  was  obliged  to  desist.  I  am  fully  confident  that,  could 
the  troops  under  Generals  Ewing  and  Cadwalader  have 
passed  the  river,  I  should  have  been  able  with  their  assistance 
to  drive  the  enemy  from  all  their  posts  below  Trenton.  But 


GEORGE   WASHINGTON.  275 

the  numbers  I  had  with  me  being  inferior  to  theirs  below  me, 
and  a  strong  battalion  of  light  infantry  being  at  Princeton 
above  me,  I  thought  it  most  prudent  to  return  the  same 
evening  with  the  prisoners  and  the  artillery  we  had  taken. 
We  found  no  stores  of  any  consequence  in  the  town. 

In  justice  to  the  officers  and  men,  I  must  add  that  their 
behavior  upon  this  occasion  reflects  the  highest  honor  upon 
them.  The  difficulty  of  passing  the  river  in  a  very  severe 
night,  and  their  march  through  a  violent  storm  of  snow  and 
hail,  did  not  in  the  least  abate  their  ardor;  but,  when  they 
came  to  the  charge,  each  seemed  to  vie  with  the  other  in 
pressing  forward ;  and  were  I  to  give  a  preference  to  any 
particular  corps,  I  should  do  great  injustice  to  the  others. 
Colonel  Baylor,  my  first  aide-de-camp,  will  have  the  honor 
of  delivering  this  to  you;  and  from  him  you  may  be  made 
acquainted  with  many  other  particulars.  His  spirited  be- 
havior upon  every  occasion  requires  me  to  recommend  him 
to  your  particular  notice.  I  have  the  honor  to  be,  etc. 

(The  Writings  of  George  Washington.  By  Jared  Sparks. 
Vol.  IV,  p.  246.) 


000  758  718     1 


